WJ 


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AN  ENQUIRY 

CONCEBNINO 

HUMAN   UNDERSTANDING 

AND  SELECTIONS  FROM 

A   TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE 


BY 
DAVID  HUME 


WITH  HUME'S  AUTOBIOGRAPHY  AND 
A   LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH 


CHICAGO 
THE  OPEN  COURT  PUBLISHING  CO, 
«  19/2 


/7/^ 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 

THE  present  volume  is  the  second  of  the  series  of  Phil- 
osophical Classics  which  The  Open  Court  Publishing 
Company  purposes  issuing  in  cheap  form  for  the  convenience 
and  instruction  of  the  general  reading  public.  It  is  an  un- 
annotated  reprint,  merely,  of  the  Enquiry  Concerning  Human 
Understanding,  made  from  the  posthumous  edition  of  1777, 
together  with  Hume's  charming  autobiography  and  the 
eulogistic  letter  of  Adam  Smith,  usually  prefixed  to  the 
History  of  England.  These  additions,  with  the  portrait  by 
Ramsay,  which  forms  the  frontispiece  to  the  volume,  render 
the  picture  of  Hume's  life  complete,  and  leave  but  a  word  to 
be  said  concerning  his  philosophical  importance. 

With  the  great  public,  Hume's  fame  has  always  rested 
upon  his  History  of  England, — a  work  now  antiquated  as  his- 
tory and  remarkable  only  for  the  signal  elegance  and  sym- 
metry of  its  style.  But  this  once  prevalent  opinion,  our  age 
has  reversed,  and,  as  has  been  well  remarked,*  "Hume,  the 
spiritual  father  of  Kant,  now  takes  precedence  over  Hume,  the 
rival  of  Robertson  and  Gibbon."  It  is  precisely  here,  in  fact, 
that  Hume's  significance  for  the  history  of  thought  lies.  With 
him  modern  philosophy  entered  upon  its  Kantian  phase,  be- 
came critical  and  positivistic,  became  a  theory  of  knowledge. 
For  the  old  "false  and  adulterate"  metaphysics  he  sought  to 
substitute  a  "true"  metaphysics,  based  on  the  firm  founda- 
tions of  reason  and  experience.  His  scepticism, — and  of 
scepticism  he  has  since  been  made  the  standard-bearer, — was 
directed  against  the  old  ontology  only,  and  not  against  science 
proper  (inclusive  of  philosophy).  "Had  Hume  been  an 
absolute  sceptic  he  could  never  have  produced  an  Immanuel 
Kant.  .  .  .  The  spirit  of  the  theoretical  philosophy  of  Hume 
and  Kant,  the  fundamental  conception  of  their  investigations, 
and  the  goal  at  which  they  aim,  are  perfectly  identical.  Theirs 

•Alfred  Weber,  History  of  Philosophy,  New  York,    1896. 


347201. 


PUBLISHERS'  PREFACE. 

is  the  critical  spirit,  and  positive  knowledge  the  goal  at  which 
they  aim.  To  claim  for  Kant  the  sole  honor  of  having 
founded  criticism  is  an  error  which  a  closer  study  of  British 
philosophy  tends  to  refute."! 

To  this  reprint  of  Hume's  Enquiry  Concerning  Human 
Undersianding  has  been  added  a  supplement  containing  se- 
lections from  his  earlier  and  longer  philosophical  work,  the 
Treatise  on  Human  Understanding,  referred  to  in  the 
"Author's  Advertisement"  to  the  Enquiry  (page  xxvili., 
this  edition).  In  spite  of  Hume's  deprecatory  reference  to 
the  Treatise,  it  remains  the  completest  expression  of  his 
philosophical  doctrine.  The  selected  portions  of  the 
Treatise  comprise  (i)  certain  sections  on  causality  which 
amplify  the  causal  doctrine  of  the  Enquiry  and  may  profit- 
ably be  read  after  Section  VH.  of  the  latter  work;  and  (2) 
those  sections  which  embody  the  essential  features  of  Hume's 
constructive  philosophy,  his  conception  of  matter  and  of  self 
of  spirit.  Nothing  in  the  Enquiry,  with  the  exception  of  a 
few  paragraphs  of  Section  XH.,  corresponds  to  these  sections 
of  the  Treatise.  They  should  be  read  before,  or  in  place 
of,  the  comparatively  irrelevant  sections,  IX-XL,  of  the 
Enquiry. 

The  first  part  of  this  book,  pages  i  to  174,  has  been  edited 
by  Mr.  Thomas  J.  McCormack  of  La  Salle,  111.,  now  principal 
of  the  La  Salle  Township  High  School.  The  remainder, 
pages  17s  to  263,  has  been  edited  by  Prof.  Mary  Whiten 
Calkins,   of  Wellesley   College,  Wellesley,   Mass. 

THE  OPEN  COURT   PUBLISHING  CO. 
March,  1907. 
t  Weber,  loc.  cit.,  pp.  4i9-4?o, 


? 


./> 


THE  LIFE  OF  DAVID  HUME,  ESQ, 


WRITTEN  BY  HIMSELF. 


MY  OWN  LIFE. 


TT  is  difficult  for  a  man  to  speak  long  of  himself 
-*-  without  vanity;  therefore  I  shall  be  short.  It  may 
be  thought  an  instance  of  vanity  that  I  pretend  at  all 
to  write  my  life ;  but  this  narrative  shall  contain  little 
more  than  the  history  of  my  writings;  as,  indeed,  al 
most  all  my  life  has  been  spent  in  literary  pursuits 
and  occupations.  The  first  success  of  most  of  my 
writings  was  not  such  as  to  be  an  object  of  vanity. 

I  was  born  the  twenty-sixth  of  April,  1711,  old 
style,  at  Edinburgh.  I  was  of  a  good  family,  both 
by  father  and  mother :  my  father's  family  is  a  branch 
of  the  earl  of  Home's,  or  Hume's ;  and  my  ancestors 
,  had  been  proprietors  of  the  estate  which  my  brother 
possesses,  for  several  generations.  My  mother  was 
daughter  of  Sir  David  Falconer,  president  of  the  col-; 
lege  of  justice ;  the  title  of  Lord  Halkerton  came  by 
succession  to  her  brother. 

My  family,  however,  was  not  rich  ;  and  being  my- 
self a  younger  brother,  my  patrimony,  according  to 
the  mode  of  my  country,  was  of  course  very  slender. 


vi  AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 

My  father,  who  passed  for  a  man  of  parts,  died  when 
I  was  an  infant,  leaving  me,  with  an  elder  brother  aqid 
a  sister,  under  the  care  of  our  mother,  a  woman  of 
singular  merit,  who,  though  young  and  handsome, 
devoted  herself  entirely  to  the  rearing  and  educating 
of  her  children.  I  passed  through  the  ordinary  course 
of  education  with  success,  and  was  seized  very  early 
with  a  passion  for  literature,  which  has  been  the  ru- 
ling passion  of  my  life,  and  the  great  source  of  my  en- 
joyments. My  studious  disposition,  my  sobriety,  and 
my  industry,  gave  my  family  a  notion  that  the  law 
was  a  proper  profession  for  me;  but  I  found  an  insur- 
mountable aversion  to  every  thing  but  the  pursuits  of 
philosophy  and  general  learning;  and  while  they 
fancied  I  was  poring  upon  Voet  and  Vinnius,  Cicero 
and  Virgil  were  the  authors  which  I  was  secretly 
devouring. 

My  very  slender  fortune,  however,  being  unsuitable 
to  this  plan  of  life,  and  my  health  being  a  little  broken 
by  my  ardent  application,  I  was  tempted,  or  rather 
forced,  to  make  a  very  feeble  trial  for  entering  into  a 
more  active  scene  of  life.  In  1734,  I  went  to  Bristol, 
with  some  recommendations  to  several  eminent  mer- 
chants ;  but  in  a  few  months  found  that  scene  totally 
unsuitable  to  me.  I  went  over  to  France,  with  a  view 
of  prosecuting  my  studies  in  a  country  retreat ;  and  I 
there  laid  that  plan  of  life  which  I  have  steadily  and 
successfully  pursued.  I  resolved  to  make  a  very  rigid 
frugality  supply  my  deficiency  of  fortune,  to  maintain 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  v\i 

unimpaired  my  independency,  and  to  regard  every 
object  as  contemptible,  except  the  improvements  of 
my  talents  in  literature. 

During  my  retreat  in  France,  first  at  Rheims,  but 
chiefly  at  La  Fleche,  in  Anjou,  I  composed  my  Trea- 
tise of  Human  Nature.  After  passing  three  years  very 
agreeably  in  that  country,  I  came  over  to  London  in 
1737.  In  the  end  of  1738,  I  published  my  Treatise, 
and  immediately  went  down  to  my  mother  and  my 
brother,  who  lived  at  his  country  house,  and  was 
employing  himself  very  judiciously  and  successfully 
in  the  improvement  of  his  fortune. 

Never  literary  attempt  was  more  unfortunate  than 
my  Treatise  of  Human  Nature.  It  fell  dead-born 
from  the  press,  without  reaching  such  distinction  as 
even  to. excite  a  murmur  among  the  zealots.  But  be- 
ing naturally  of  a  cheerful  and  sangume  temper,  I  very 
soon  recovered  the  blow,  and  prosecuted  with  great 
ardor  my  studies  in  the  country.  In  1742,  I  printed 
at  Edinburgh  the  first  part  of  my  Essays.  The  work 
was  favorably  received,  and  soon  made  me  entirely 
forget  my  former  disappointment.  I  continued  with 
my  mother  and  brother  in  the  country,  and  in  that 
time  recovered  the  knowledge  of  the  Greek  language, 
which  I  had  too  much  neglected  in  my  early  youth. 

In  1745,  I  received  a  letter  from  the  marquis  of 
Annandale,  inviting  me  to  come  and  live  with  him  in 
England ;  I  found  also  that  the  friends  and  family  of 
that  young  nobleman  were  desirous  of  putting  him 


j^iil  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

\ 

under  my  care  and  direction,  for  the  state  of  his  mind 

and  health  required  it.  I  lived  with  him  a  twelve- 
month. My  appointments  during  that  time  made  a 
considerable  accession  to  my  small  forture.  I  then 
received  an  invitation  from  General  St.  Clair  to  attend 
him  as  a  secretary  to  his  expedition,  which  was  at  first 
meant  against  Canada,  but  ended  in  an  incursion  on 
the  coast  of  France.  Next  year,  to  wit,  1747,  I  re- 
ceived an  invitation  from  the  general  to  attend  him  in 
the  same  station  in  his  military  embassy  to  the  courts 
of  Vienna  and  Turin.  I  then  wore  the  uniform  of  an 
officer,  and  was  introduced  at  these  courts  as  aid-de- 
camp to  the  general,  along  with  Sir  Harry  Erskine  and 
Captain  Grant,  now  General  Grant.  These  two  years 
were  almost  the  only  interruptions  which  my  studies 
have  received  during  the  course  of  my  life  :  I  passed 
them  agreeably,  and  in  good  company ;  and  my  ap- 
pointments, with  my  frugality,  had  made  me  reach  a 
fortune  which  I  called  independent,  though  most  of 
my  friends  were  inclined  to  smile  when  I  said  so :  in 
short,  I  was  now  master  of  neafls^^ousand  pounds. 

I  had  always  entertained  a  il^fon,  that  my  want 
of  success  in  publishing  the  Treatise  of  Human  Na- 
ture had  proceeded  more  from  the  manner  than  the 
matter,  and  that  I  had  been  guilty  of  a  very  usual 
indiscretion,  in  going  to  the  press  too  early.  I,  there- 
fore, cast  the  first  part  of  that  work  anew  in  the  In- 
quiry concerning  Human  Understanding,  which  was 
published  while  I  was  at  Turin.     But  this  piece  was 


A  U  TO  BIO  GRAPH  Y,  ix 

at  first  little  more  successful  than  the  Treatise  on 
Human  Nature.  On  my  return  from  Italy,  I  had 
the  mortification  to  find  all  England  in  a  ferment,  on 
account  of  Dr.  Middleton's  Free  Inquiry^  while  my 
performance  was  entirely  overlooked  and  neglected. 
A  new  edition,  which  had  been  published  at  London, 
of  my  Essays,  moral  and  political,  met  not  with  a 
much  better  reception. 

9  Such  is  the  force  of  natural  temper,  that  these  dis- 
appointments made  little  or  no  impression  on  me.  I 
went  down,  in  1749,  and  lived  two  years  with  my 
brother  at  his  country  house,  for  my  mother  was  now 
dead.  I  there  composed  the  second  part  of  my  Essay, 
which  I  called  Political  Discourses,  and  also  my  In- 
quiry concerning  the  Principles  of  Morals,  which  is 
another  part  of  my  Treatise  that  I  cast  anew.  Mean- 
while, my  bookseller,  A.  Millar,  informed  me,  that  my 
former  publications  (all  but  the  unfortunate  Treatise) 
were  beginning  to  be  the  subject  of  conversation; 
that  the  sale  of  them  was  gradually  increasing,  and 
that  new  editions  were  demanded.  Answers  by  rev- 
erends and  right  reverends  came  out  two  or  three  in 
a  year ;  and  I  found,  by  Dr.  Warburton's  railing,  that 
the  books  were  beginning  to  be  esteemed  in  good 
company.  However,  I  had  fixed  a  resolution,  which 
i  inflexibly  maintained,  never  to  reply  to  any  body; 
and  not  being  very  irascible  in  my  temper,  I  have 
easily  kept  myself  clear  of  all  literary  squabbles.  These 
symptoms  of  a  rising  reputation  gave  me  encourage- 


X  AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 

ment,  as  I  was  ever  more  disposed  to  see  the  favorable 
than  unfavorable  side  of  things;  a  turn  of  mind  which 
it  is  more  happy  to  possess,  than  to  be  born  to  an 
estate  of  ten  thousand  a  year. 

In  1 75 1,  I  removed  from  the  country  to  the  town, 
the  true  scene  for  a  man  of  letters.  In  1752  were 
published  at  Edinburgh,  where  I  then  lived,  my  Politi- 
cal Discourses,  the  only  work  of  mine  that  was  suc- 
cessful on  the  first  publication.  It  was  well  received 
at  home  and  abroad.  In  the  same  year  was  published, 
at  London,  my  Inquiry  concerning  the  Principles  of 
Morals ;  which,  in  my  own  opinion,  (who  ought  not 
to  judge  on  that  subject,)  is,  of  all  my  writings,  his- 
torical, philosophical,  or  literary,  incomparably  the 
best.  It  came  unnoticed  and  unobserved  into  the 
world. 

In  1752,  the  Faculty  of  Advocates  chose  me  their 
librarian,  an  office  from  which  I  received  little  or  no 
emolument,  but  which  gave  me  the  command  of  a 
large  library.  I  then  formed  the  plan  of  writing  the 
History  of  England;  but  being  frightened  with  the 
notion  of  continuing  a  narrative  through  a  period  of 
seventeen  hundred  years,  I  commenced  with  the  acces- 
sion of  the  house  of  Stuart,  an  epoch  when,  I  thought, 
the  misrepresentations  of  faction  began  chiefly  to  take 
place.  I  was,  I  own,  sanguine  in  my  expectations  of 
the  success  of  this  work.  I  thought  that  I  was  the 
only  historian  that  had  at  once  Biftglected  present 
power,  interest  and  authority,  and  the  cry  of  popular 


A  UTOBIOGRAPHY.  xi 

prejudices;  and  as  the  subject  was  suited  to  every 
capacity,  I  expected  proportional  applause.  But  mis- 
erable was  my  disappointment ;  I  was  assailed  by  one 
cry  of  reproach,  disapprobation,  and  even  detestation; 
English,  Scotch,  and  Irish,  whig  and  tory,  churchman 
and  sectary,  freethinker  and  religionist,  patriot  and 
courtier,  united  in  their  rage  against  the  man  who 
had  presumed  to  shed  a  generous  tear  for  the  fate  of 
Charles  I.  and  the  earl  of  Strafford;  and  after  the 
first  ebullitions  of  their  fury  were  over,  what  was  still 
more  mortifying,  the  book  seemed  to  sink  into  obliv- 
ion. Mr.  Millar  told  me  that  in  a  twelvemonth  he 
sold  only  forty-five  copies  of  it.  I  scarcely,  indeed, 
heard  of  one  man  in  the  three  kingdoms,  considerable 
for  rank  or  letters,  that  could  endure  the  book.  I 
must  only  except  the  primate  of  England,  Dr.  Her- 
ring, and  the  primate  of  Ireland,  Dr.  Stone,  which 
seem  two  odd  exceptions.  These  dignified  prelates 
separately  sent  me  messages  not  to  be  discouraged. 

I  was,  however,  I  confess,  discouraged ;  and  had 
not  the  war  been  at  that  time  breaking  out  between 
France  and  England,  I  had  certainly  retired  to  some 
provincial  town  of  the  former  kingdom,  have  changed 
my  name,  and  never  more  have  returned  to  my  native 
country.  But  as  this  scheme  was  not  now  practica- 
ble, and  the  subsequent  volume  was  considerably 
advanced,  I  resolved  to  pick  up  courage  and  to  per- 
severe. 

In  this  interval,  I  published,  at  London,  my  Natu- 


xU  AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 

ral  History  of  Religion,  along  with  some  other  small 
pieces.  Its  public  entry  was  rather  obscure,  except 
only  that  Dr.  Hurd  wrote  a  pamphlet  against  it,  with 
all  the  illiberal  petulance,  arrogance,  and  scurrility, 
which  distinguish  the  Warburtonian  school.  This 
pamphlet  gave  me  some  consolation  for  the  other- 
wise indifferent  reception  of  my  performance. 

In  1756,  two  y^ars  after  the  fall  of  the  first  volume, 
was  published  the  second  volume  of  my  history,  con- 
taining the  period  from  the  death  of  Charles  I.  till  the 
revolution.  This  performance  happened  to  give  less 
displeasure  to  the  whigs,  and  was  better  received. 
It  not  only  rose  itself,  but  helped  to  buoy  up  its  un- 
fortunate brother. 

But  though  I  had  been  taught  by  experience  that 
the  whig  party  were  in  possession  of  bestowing  all 
places,  both  in  the  state  and  in  literature,  I  was  so 
little  inclined  to  yield  to  their  senseless  clamor,  that 
in  above  a  hundred  alterations,  which  further  study, 
reading,  or  reflection  engaged  me  to  make  in  the 
reigns  of  the  two  first  Stuarts,  I  have  made  all  of 
them  invariably  to  the  tory  side.  It  is  ridiculous  to 
consider  the  English  constitution  before  that  period 
as  a  regular  plan  of  liberty. 

In  1759,  I  published  my  history  of  the  house  of 
Tudor.  The  clamor  against  this  performance  was 
almost  equal  to  that  against  the  history  of  the  two 
first  Stuarts.  The  reign  of  Elizabeth  was  particularly 
obnoxious.     But  I  was  now  callous  against  the  im 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY.  sUi 

pressions  of  public  folly,  and  continued  very  peaceably 
and  contentedly,  in  my  retreat  at  Edinburgh,  to  finish, 
in  two  volumes,  the  more  early  part  of  the  English 
history,  which  I  gave  to  the  public  in  1761,  with 
tolerable,  and  but  tolerable,  success. 

But,  notwithstanding  this  variety  of  winds  and 
seasons,  to  which  my  writings  had  been  exposed,  they 
had  still  been  making  such  advances,  that  the  copy- 
money  given  me  by  the  booksellers  much  exceeded  any 
thing  formerly  known  in  England  ;  I  was  become  not 
only  independent,  but  opulent.  I  retired  to  my  native 
country  of  Scotland,  determined  never  more  to  set  my 
foot  out  of  it ;  and  retaining  the  satisfaction  of  never 
having  preferred  a  request  to  one  great  man,  or  even 
making  advances  of  friendship  to  any  of  them.  As  I 
was  now  turned  of  fifty,  I  thought  of  passing  all  the 
rest  of  my  life  in  this  philosophical  manner :  when  I 
received,  in  1763,  an  invitation  from  the  earl  of  Hert- 
ford, with  whom  I  was  not  in  the  least  acquainted,  to 
attend  him  on  his  embassy  to  Paris,  with  a  near  pros- 
pect of  being  appointed  secretary  to  the  embassy;  and, 
in  the  mean  while,  of  performing  the  functions  of  that 
office.  This  offer,  however  inviting,  I  at  first  declined; 
both  because  I  was  reluctant  to  begin  connections 
with  the  great,  and  because  I  was  afraid  that  the 
civilities  and  gay  company  of  Paris  would  prove  dis- 
agreeable to  a  person  of  my  age  and  humor ;  but  on 
his  lordship's  repeating  the  invitation,  I  accepted  of  it. 
I  have  every  reason,  both  of  pleasure  and  interest,  to 


xW  AUTOBIOGRAPHY, 

think  myself  happy  in  my  connexions  with  that  noble- 
man, as  well  as  afterwards  with  his  brother,  General 
Conway. 

Those  who  have  not  seen  the  strange  effects  of 
modes,  will  never  imagine  the  reception  I  met  with  at 
Paris,  from  men  and  women  of  all  ranks  and  stations. 
The  more  I  resiled  from  their  excessive  civilities,  the 
more  I  was  loaded  with  them.  There  is,  however, 
a  real  satisfaction  in  living  at  Paris,  from  the  great 
number  of  sensible,  knowing,  and  polite  company 
with  which  that  city  abounds  above  all  places  in  the 
universe.     I  thought  once  of  settling  there  for  life. 

I  was  appointed  secretary  to  the  embassy ;  and,  in 
summer,  1765,  Lord  Hertford  left  me,  being  appointed 
lord  lieutenant  of  Ireland.  I  was  charge  d'affaires  till 
the  arrival  of  the  duke  of  Richmond,  towards  the  end 
of  the  year.  In  the  beginning  of  17&6,  I  left  Paris, 
and  next  summer  went  to  Edinburgh,  with  the  same 
view  as  formerly,  of  burying  myself  in  a  philosophical 
retreat.  I  returned  to  that  place,  not  richer,  but  with 
much  more  money,  and  a  much  larger  income,  by 
means  of  Lord  Hertford's  friendship,  than  I  left  it; 
and  I  was  desirous  of  trying  what  superfluity  could 
produce,  as  I  had  formerly  made  an  experiment  of  a 
competency.  But  in  1767,  I  received  from  Mr.  Con- 
way an  invitation  to  be  under-secretary ;  and  this 
invitation,  both  the  character  of  the  person,  and  mv 
connexions  with  Lord  Hertford,  prevented  me  from 
declining.     I  returned  to  Edinburgh   in    1769,   very 


AUTOBIOGRAPHY,  xv 

opulent,  (for  I  possessed  a  revenue  of  one  thousand 
pounds  a  year,)  healthy,  and  though  somewhat  stricken 
in  years,  with  the  prospect  of  enjoying  long  my  ease? 
and  of  seeing  the  increase  of  my  reputation. 

In  spring,  1775,  I  was  struck  with  a  disorder  in 
my  bowels,  which  at  first  gave  me  no  alarm,  but  has 
since,  as  I  apprehend  it,  become  mortal  and  incurable. 
I  now  reckon  upon  a  speedy  dissolution.  I  have  suf- 
fered very  little  pain  from  my  disorder ;  and  what  is 
more  strange,  have,  notwithstanding  the  great  decline 
of  my  person,  never  suffered  a  moment's  abatement 
of  my  spirits;  insomuch,  that  were  I  to  name  a  period 
of  my  life  which  I  should  most  choose  to  pass  over 
again,  I  might  be  tempted  to  point  to  this  later  period. 
I  possess  the  same  ardor  as  ever  in  study,  and  the  same 
gayety  in  company.  I  consider,  besides,  that  a  man 
of  sixty-five,  by  dying,  cuts  off  only  a  few  years  of 
infirmities ;  and  though  I  see  many  symptoms  of  my 
literary  reputaticsn's  breaking  out  at  last  with  addi- 
tional lustre,  I  kriiow  that  I  could  have  but  few  years 
to  enjoy  it.  It  is  difficult  to  be  more  detached  from 
life  than  I  am  at  present. 

To  conclude  historically  with  my  own  character: 
I  am,  or  rather  was,  (for  that  is  the  style  I  must  now 
use  in  speaking  of  myself,  which  emboldens  me  the 
more  to  speak  my  sentiments;)  I  was,  I  say,  a  man  of 
mild  disposition,  of  command  of  temper,  of  an  open 
social,  and  cheerful  humor,  capable  of  attachment,  but 
little  susceptible  of  enmity,  and  of  great  moderation 


% 
xvi  AUTOBIOGRAPHY. 

in  all  my  passions.  Even  my  love  of  literary  fame, 
my  ruling  passion,  never  soured  my  temper,  notwith- 
standing my  frequent  disappointments.  My  companyj 
was  not  unacceptable  to  the  young  and  careless,  as 
well  as  to  the  studious  and  literary;  and  as  I  took  a 
particular  pleasure  in  the  company  of  modest  women, 
I  had  no  reason  to  be  displeased  with  the  reception  I 
met  with  from  them.  In  a  word,  though  most  men, 
anywise  eminent,  have  found  reason  to  complain  of 
Calumny,  I  never  was  touched,  or  even  attacked,  by 
her  baleful  tooth;  and  though  I  wantonly  exposed 
myself  to  the  rage  of  both  civil  and  religious  factions, 
they  seemed  to  be  disarmed  in  my  behalf  of  their 
wonted  fury.  My  friends  never  had  occasion  to  vin- 
dicate any  one  circumstance  of  my  character  and  con- 
duct ;  not  but  that  the  zealots,  we  may  well  suppose, 
would  have  been  glad  to  invent  and  propagate  any 
story  to  my  disadvantage,  but  they  could  never  find 
any  which  they  thought  would  wear  the  face  of  prob- 
ability. I  cannot  say  there  is  no  vanity  in  making  this 
funeral  oration  of  myself,  but  I  hope  it  is  not  a  mis- 
placed one;  and  this  is  a  matter  of  fact  which  is  easily 
cleared  and  ascertained. 

April  i8,  1776. 


LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH,  LL.  D. 

TO  WILLIAM  STRAHAN,  ESQ. 

KiRKALDY,   FiFESHIRE,   NoV.    Q,    1 776. 

Dear  Sir, 

IT  is  with  a  real,  though  a  very  melancholy  pleasure, 
that  I  sit  down  to  give  you  some  account  of  the 
behaviour  of  our  late  excellent  friend,  Mr.  Hume, 
during  his  last  illness. 

Though,  in  his  own  judgement,  his  disease  was 
mortal  and  incurable,  yet  he  allowed  himself  to  be 
prevailed  upon,  by  the  entreaty  of  his  friends,  to  try 
what  might  be  the  effects  of  a  long  journey.  A  few 
days  before  he  set  out,  he  wrote  that  account  of  hi5 
own  life,  which,  together  with  his  other  papers,  he 
has  left  to  your  care.  My  account,  therefore,  shall 
begin  where  his  ends. 

He  set  out  for  London  towards  the  end  of  April, 
and  at  Morpeth  met  with  Mr.  John  Home  and  myself, 
who  had  both  come  down  from  London  on  purpose  to 
see  him,  expecting  to  have  found  him  at  Edinburgh. 
Mr.  Home  returned  with  him,  and  attended  him  dur- 
ing the  whole  of  his  stay  in  England,  with  that  care 
and  attention  which  might  be  expected  from  a  temper 


xviii  LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH, 

SO  perfectly  friendly  and  affectionate  As  I  had  written 
to  my  mother  that  she  might  expect  me  in  Scotland, 
I  was  under  the  necessity  of  continuing  my  journey. 
His  disease  seemed  to  yield  to  exercise  and  change  of 
air;  and  when  he  arrived  in  London,  he  was  apparently 
in  much  better  health  than  when  he  left  Edinburgh. 
He  was  advised  to  go  to  Bath  to  drink  the  waters, 
which  appeared  for  some  time  to  have  so  good  an  effect 
upon  him,  that  even  he  himself  began  to  entertain, 
what  he  was  not  apt  to  do,  a  better  opinion  of  his  own 
health.  His  symptoms,  however,  soon  returned  with 
their  usual  violence;  and  from  that  moment  he  gave 
up  all  thoughts  of  recovery,  but  submitted  with  the 
utmost  cheerfulness,  and  the  most  perfect  compla- 
cency and  resignation.  Upon  his  return  to  Edinburgh, 
though  he  found  himself  much  weaker,  yet  his  cheer- 
fulness never  abated,  and  he  continued  to  divert  him- 
self, as  usual,  with  correcting  his  own  works  for  a  new 
editiosi,  with  reading  books  of  amusement,  with  the 
conversation  of  his  friends ;  and,  sometimes  in  the 
evening,  with  a  party  at  his  favorite  game  of  whist 
His  cheerfulness  was  so  great,  and  his  conversation 
and  amusements  ran  so  much  in  their  usual  strain, 
that,  notwithstanding  all  bad  symptoms,  many  people 
could  not  believe  he  was  dying.  "I  shall  tell  your 
friend.  Colonel  Edmonstone,'*said  Dr.  Dundas  to  him 
one  day,  *'that  I  left  you  much  better,  and  in  a  fair 
way  of  recovery."  *' Doctor,"  said  he,  '*as  I  believe 
you  would  not  choose  to  tell  any  thing  but  the  truth, 


LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH,  xix 

you  had  better  tell  him  that  I  am  dying  as  fast  as  my 
enemies,  if  I  have  any,  could  wish,  and  as  easily  and 
cheerfully  as  my  best  friends  could  desire. "  Colonel 
Edmonstone  soon  afterwards  came  to  see  him,  and 
take  leave  of  him  ;  and  on  his  way  home  he  could  not 
forbear  writing  him  a  letter,  bidding  him  once  more 
an  eternal  adieu,  and  applying  to  him,  as  to  a  dying 
man,  the  beautiful  French  verses  in  which  the  Abbd 
Chaulieu,  in  expectation  of  his  own  death,  laments  his 
approaching  separation  from  his  friend  the  Marquis 
de  la  Fare.  Mr.  Hume's  magnanimity  and  firmness 
were  such,  that  his  most  affectionate  friends  knew 
that  they  hazarded  nothing  in  talking  or  writing  to 
him  as  to  a  dying  man,  and  that  so  far  from  being 
hurt  by  this  frankness,  he  was  rather  pleased  and  flat- 
tered by  it.  I  happened  to  come  into  his  room  while 
he  was  reading  this  letter,  which  he  had  just  received, 
and  which  he  immediately  showed  me.  I  told  him, 
that  though  I  was  sensible  how  very  much  he  was 
weakened,  and  that  appearances  were  In  many  respects 
very  bad,  yet  his  cheerfulness  was  still  so  great,  the 
spirit  of  life  seemed  still  to  be  so  very  strong  in  him, 
that  I  could  not  help  entertaining  some  faint  hopes. 
He  answered,  "Your  hopes  are  groundless.  An  ha- 
bitual diarrhoea  of  more  than  a  year's  standing,  would 
be  a  very  bad  disease  at  any  age ;  at  my  age  it  is  a 
mortal  one.  When  I  lie  down  in  the  evening,  I  feel 
myself  weaker  than  when  I  rose  In  the  morning ;  and 
when  I  rise  in  the  morning,  weaker  than  when  I  lay 


XX  LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH. 

down  in  the  evening.  I  am  sensible,  besides,  that 
some  of  my  vital  parts  are  affected,  so  that  I  must 
soon  die."  **Well,"  said  I,  ''if  it  must  be  so,  you 
have  at  least  the  satisfaction  of  leaving  all  your  friends, 
your  brother's  family  in  particular,  in  great  prosper- 
ity." He  said  that  he  felt  that  satisfaction  so  sensibly, 
that  when  he  was  reading,  a  few  days  before,  Lucian's 
Dialogues  of  the  Dead,  among  all  the  excuses  which 
are  alleged  to  Charon  for  not  entering  readily  into  his 
boat,  he  could  not  find  one  that  fitted  him  :  he  had  no 
house  to  finish,  he  had  no  daughter  to  provide  for,  he 
had  no  enemies  upon  whom  he  wished  to  revenge 
himself.  *'I  could  not  well  imagine,"  said  he,  *'what 
excuse  I  could  make  to  Charon  in  order  to  obtain  a 
little  delay.  I  have  done  every  thing  of  consequence 
which  I  ever  meant  to  do ;  and  I  could  at  no  time  ex- 
pect to  leave  my  relations  and  friends  in  a  better  sit- 
uation than  that  in  which  I  am  now  likel}^  to  leave  them: 
I,  therefore,  have  all  reason  to  die  contented."  He 
then  diverted  himself  with  inventing  several  jocular 
excuses,  which  he  supposed  he  might  make  to  Charon, 
and  with  imagining  the  very  surly  answers  which  it 
might  suit  the  character  of  Charon  to  return  to  them. 
'«Upon  further  consideration,"  said  he,  **I  thought  I 
might  say  to  him,  'Good  Charon,  I  have  been  correct- 
ing my  works  for  a  new  edition.  Allow  me  a  little 
time,  that  I  may  see  how  the  public  receives  the  alter- 
ations.' But  Charon  would  answer,  'When  you  have 
seen  the  effect  of  these,  you  will  be  for  making  other 


LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH.  xxi 

alterations.  There  will  be  no  end  of  such  excuses ; 
so,  honest  friend,  please  step  into  the  boat.*  But  I 
might  still  urge,  *Have  a  little  patience,  good  Charon: 
I  have  been  endeavouring  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  pub- 
lic. If  I  live  a  few  years  longer,  I  may  have  the  satis- 
faction of  seeing  the  downfall  of  some  of  the  prevailing 
systems  of  superstition.'  But  Charon  would  then  lose 
all  temper  and  decency.  *  You  loitering  rogue,  that  will 
not  happen  these  many  hundred  years.  Do  you  fancy 
I  will  grant  you  a  lease  for  so  long  a  term  ?  Get  into 
the  boat  this  instant,  you  lazy,  loitering  rogue.*  " 

But,  though  Mr.  Hume  always  talked  of  his  ap- 
proaching dissolution  with  great  cheerfulness,  he  never 
affected  to  make  any  parade  of  his  magnanimity.  He 
never  mentioned  the  subject  but  when  the  conversa- 
tion naturally  led  to  it,  and  never  dwelt  longer  upon 
it  than  the  course  of  the  conversation  happened  to  re- 
quire ;  it  was  a  subject  indeed  which  occurred  pretty 
frequently,  in  consequence  of  the  inquiries  which  his 
friends,  who  came  to  see  him,  naturally  made  concern- 
ing the  state  of  his  health.  The  conversation  which 
I  mentioned  above,  and  which  passed  on  Thursday 
the  eighth  of  August,  was  the  last,  except  one,  that  I 
ever  had  with  him.  He  had  now  become  so  very 
weak,  that  the  company  of  his  most  intimate  friends 
fatigued  him ;  for  his  cheerfulness  was  still  so  great, 
his  complaisance  and  social  disposition  were  still  so 
entire,  that  when  any  friend  was  with  him,  he  could 
not  help  talking  more,  and  with  greater  exertion,  than 


Kxii  LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH, 

suited  the  weakness  of  his  body.  At  his  own  desire, 
therefore,  I  agreed  to  leave  Edinburgh,  where  I  was 
staying  partly  upon  his  account  and  returned  to  my 
mother's  house  here  at  Kirkaldy,  upon  condition  that 
he  would  send  for  me  whenever  he  wished  to  see  me ; 
the  physician  who  saw  him  most  frequently.  Dr.  Black, 
undertaking,  in  the  mean  time,  to  write  me  occasion- 
ally an  account  of  the  state  of  his  health. 

On  the  twenty-second  of  August,  the  doctor  v*^rote 
me  the  following  letter  :  — 

**  Since  my  last,  Mr.  Hume  has  passed  his  time 
pretty  easily,  but  is  much  weaker.  He  sits  up,  goes 
down  stairs  once  a  day,  and  amuses  himself  with 
reading,  but  seldom  sees  any  body.  He  finds  that 
even  the  conversation  of  his  most  intimate  friends 
fatigues  and  oppresses  him  ;  and  it  is  happy  that  he 
does  not  need  it,  for  he  is  quite  free  from  anxiety,  im- 
patience, or  low  spirits,  and  passes  his  time  very  well 
with  the  assistance  of  amusing  books." 

I  received,  the  day  after,  a  letter  from  Mr.  Hume 
himself,  of  which  the  following  is  an  extract :  — 

'* Edinburgh,  23d  August,  1776. 

**My  Dearest  Friend, 

''I  am  obliged  to  make  use  of  my  nephew's  hand 

in  writing  to  you,  as  I  do  not  rise  to-day. 

*  * 

'*I  go  very  fast  to  decline,  and  last  night  had  a 

small  fever,  which  I  hoped  might  put  a  quicker  period 


LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH.  xxiii 

to  this  tedious  illness ;  but  unluckily  it  has,  in  a  great 
measure,  gone  off.  I  cannot  submit  to  your  coming 
over  here  on  my  account,  as  it  is  possible  for  me  to 
see  you  so  small  a  part  of  the  day ;  but  Dr.  Black  can 
better  inform  you  concerning  the  degree  of  strength 
which  may  from  time  to  time  remain  with  me.  Adieu, 
etc.*' 

Three  days  after,  I  received  the  following  iettet 
from  Dr.  Black :  — 

"Edinburgh,  Monday,  26th  August,  1776, 
''Dear  Sir, 

**  Yesterday,  about  four  o'clock,  afternoon,  Mr. 
Hume  expired.  The  near  approach  of  his  death  be- 
came evident  in  the  night  between  Thursday  and  Fri- 
day, when  his  disease  became  excessive,  and  soon 
weakened  him  so  much,  that  he  could  no  longer  rise 
out  of  his  bed.  He  continued  to  the  last  perfectly 
sensible,  and  free  from  much  pain  or  feelings  of  dis- 
tress. He  never  dropped  the  smallest  expression  of 
impatience;  but  when  he  had  occasion  to  speak  to 
the  people  about  him,  always  did  it  with  affection  and 
tenderness.  I  thought  it  improper  to  write  to  bring 
you  over,  especially  as  I  heard  that  he  had  dictated  a 
letter  to  you,  desiring  you  not  to  come.  When  he 
became  very  weak,  it  cost  him  an  effort  to  speak; 
and  he  died  in  such  a  happy  composure  of  mind,  that 
nothing  could  exceed  it," 


xxiv  LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMITH. 

Thus  died  our  most  excellent  and  never  to  be  for- 
gotten friend ;  concerning  whose  philosophical  opin- 
ions men  will,  no  doubt,  judge  variously,  every  one 
approving  or  condemning  them,  according  as  they 
happen  to  coincide  or  disagree  with  his  own,  but  con- 
cerning whose  character  and  conduct  there  can  scarce 
be  a  difference  of  opinion.  His  temper,  indeed, 
seemed  to  be  more  happily  balanced,  if  I  may  be  al- 
lowed such  an  expression,  than  that  perhaps  of  any 
other  man  I  have  ever  known.  Even  in  the  lowest 
state  of  his  fortune,  his  great  and  necessary  frugality 
never  hindered  him  from  exercising,  upon  proper  oc- 
casions, acts  both  of  charity  and  generosity.  It  was 
a  frugality  founded  not  upon  avarice,  but  upon  the 
love  of  independency.  The  extreme  gentleness  of  his 
nature  never  weakened  either  the  firmness  of  his  mind 
or  the  steadiness  of  his  resolutions.  His  constant 
pleasantry  was  the  genuine  effusion  of  good  nature  and 
good  humour,  tempered  with  delicacy  and  modesty, 
and  without  even  the  slightest  tincture  of  malignity, 
so  frequently  the  disagreeable  source  of  what  is  called 
wit  in  other  men.  It  never  was  the  meaning  of  his 
raillery  to  mortify  ;  and  therefore,  far  from  offending, 
it  seldom  failed  to  please  and  delight,  even  those  who 
were  frequently  the  objects  of  it ;  there  was  not  per- 
haps any  one  of  all  his  great  and  amiable  qualities 
which  contributed  more  to  endear  his  conversation. 
And  that  gayety  of  temper,  so  agreeable  in  society, 
but  which  is  so  often  accompanied  with  frivolous  and 


LETTER  FROM  ADAM  SMTTH.  xxv 

superficial  qualities,  was  in  him  certainly  attended 
with  the  most  severe  application,  the  most  extensive 
learning,  the  greatest  depth  of  thought,  and  a  capacity 
in  every  respect  the  most  comprehensive.  Upon  the 
whole,  I  have  always  considered  him,  both  in  his  life- 
time and  since  his  death,  as  approaching  as  nearly  to 
the  idea  of  a  perfectly  wise  and  virtuous  man  as  per- 
haps the  nature  of  human  frailty  will  permit. 

I  ever  am,  dear  sir. 

Most  affectionally  yours, 

»  Adam  Smith. 


CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

Publishers'  Preface iii 

*  Autobiography v 

Letter  from  Adam  Smith  to  William  Strahan       ....  xvii 

Author's  Advertisement xxviii 

An  Enquiry  Concerning  Human  Understanding — 

Of  the  Different  Species  of  Philosophy (h 

».|  -  Of  the  Origin  of  Ideas u^ 

— f— '  Of  the  Association  of  Ideas Cou 

t-      Sceptical  Doubts  Concerning  the  Operations  of  the 

Understanding , 

-r      Sceptical  Solution  of  these  Doubts (^m^ 

•♦      Of  Probability 57 

■4"^  Of  the  Idea  of  Necessary  Connexion 61^    ^ 

Of  Liberty  and  Necessity S^ 

Of  the  Reason  of  Animals 109 

—  Of  Miracles 114 

— — -  Of  a  Particular  Providence  and  of  a  Future  State    .     .  139 

Of  the  Academical  or  Sceptical  Philosophy    ....  158 
Selections  from  A  Treatise  of  Human  Nature — 
The  Doctrine  of  Causalityo 
Book  I.     Part  III. 

Section  I.         Of  Knowledge 185 

. X  Section  II.       Of  Probability;  and  of  the  Idea  of  Cause 

and  Effect 190 

Section  III.     Why  a  Cause  Is  Always  Necessary     .      .  197 

-^    Section  XIV.  Of  the  Idea  of  Necessary  Connexion  .     .  202  vV 
The  Doctrine  of  Substance. 
Book  I.     Part  I. 

Section  VI.     Of  Modes  and  Substances 22T 

Book  I.     Part  II. 
-f-     Section  VI.     Of  the  Idea  of  Existence  and  of  External 

Existence 229  ^ 

Book  I.     Part  IV. 

^  Section  II,      Of  Scepticism  with  regard  to  the  Senses  232    ^ 

<  Section  VI.     Of  Personal  Identity 245  ^^ 

t  Appekdix 260 

I 
I 


AUTHOR'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 

Most  of  the  principles,  and  reasonings,  contained  in  this  vol- 
ume,* were  published  in  a  work  in  three  volumes,  called  A  Trea- 
tise of  Human  Nature:  A  work  which  the  Author  had  projected 
before  he  left  College,  and  which  he  wrote  and  published  not  long 
after.  But  not  finding  it  successful,  he  was  sensible  of  his  error 
in  going  to  the  press  too  early,  and  he  cast  the  whole  anew  in  the 
following  pieces,  where  some  negligences  in  his  former  reasoning 
and  more  in  the  expression,  are,  he  hopes,  corrected.  Yet  several 
writers  who  have  honoured  the  Author's  Philosophy  with  answers, 
have  taken  care  to  direct  all  their  batteries  against  that  juvenile 
work,  which  the  author  never  acknowledged,  and  have  affected  to 
triumph  in  any  advantages,  which,  they  imagined,  they  had  ob- 
tained over  it :  A  practice  very  contrary  to  all  rules  of  candour 
and  fair-dealing,  and  a  strong  instance  of  those  polemical  artifices 
which  a  bigotted  zeal  thinks  itself  authorized  to  employ.  Hence- 
forth, the  Author  desires,  that  the  following  Pieces  may  alone  be 
regarded  as  containing  his  philosophical  sentiments  and  principles 

IVolume  II.  of  the  posthumous  edition  of  Hume's  works  published  in 
1777  and  containing,  besides  the  present  Enquiry,  A  Dissertation  on  the  Pas 
sions,  and  An  Enquiry  Concerning  the  Principles  of  Morals.  A  reprint  of  the 
latter  treatise  has  already  appeared  in  the  Religion  of  Science  Library  (No. 
46),  published  by  The  Open  Court  Publishing  Qo.— Editor. 


rt 


SECTION  I. 

OF  THE  DIFFERENT  SPECIES  OF  PHILOSOPHY. 

MORAL  philosophy,  or  the  science  of  human  na- 
ture, may  be  treated  after  two  different  manners; 
each  of  which  has  its  peculiar  merit,  and  may  contrib- 
ute to  the  entertainment,  instruction,  and  reformation 
of  mankind.  The  one  considers  man  chiefly  as  born  Tt 
for  action;  and  as  influenced  in  his  measures  by  taste ^^ 
and  sentiment;  pursuing  one  object,  and  avoiding 
another,  according  to  the  valueywhich  these  objects 
seem  to  possess,  and  according  to  the  light  in  which 
they  present  themselves.  As  virtue,  of  all  objects,  is 
allowed  to  be  the  most  valuable,  this  species  of  philos- 
ophers paint  her  in  the  most  amiable  colours ;  borrow- 
ing all  helps  from  poetry  and  eloquence,  and  treating 
their  subject  in  an  easy  and  obvious  manner,  and  such 
as  is  best  fitted  to  please  the  imagination,  and  engage 
the  affections.  They  select  the  most  striking  observa- 
tions and  instances  from  common  life ;  place  opposite 
characters  in  a  proper  contrast ;  and  alluring  us  into 
the  paths  of  virtue  by  the  views  of  glory  and  happi- 
ness, direct  our  steps  in  these  paths  by  the  soundest 
precepts  and  most  illustrious  examples.  They  make 
us  feel^XSxQ  difference  between  vice  and  virtue ;  they 
excite  and  regulate  our  sentiments ;  and  so  they  can 
but  bend  our  hearts  to  the  love  of  probity  and  true 
honour,  they  think,  that  they  have  fully  attained  the 
end  of  all  their  labours. 


2  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

The  other  species  of  philosophers  jconsider  man  v 
the  light  of  a  reasonable  rather  than  an  active  being,^ 
and  endeavour  to  form  his  understanding  mor^;  than 
cultivate  his  manners.  They  regard  human  nature  as 
a  subject  of  speculation ;  and  with  a  narrow  scrutiny 
examine  it,  in  order  to  find  those  principles,  which 
regulate  our  understanding,  excite  our  sentiments,  and 
make  us  to  approve  or  blame  any  particular  object, 
action,  or  behaviour.  They  think  it  a  reproach  to  all 
literature,  that  philosophy  should  not  yet  have  fixed, 
beyond  controversy,  the  foundation  of  morals,  reason- 
ing, and  criticism  ;  and  should  for  ever  talk  of  truth 
and  falsehood,  vice  and  virtue,  beauty  and  deformity, 
without  being  able  to  determine  the  source  of  these 
distinctions.  While  they  attempt  this  arduous  task, 
they  are  deterred  by  no  difficulties ;  but  proceeding 
from  particular  instances  to  general  principles,  they 
still  push  on  their  enquiries  to  principles  more  gen- 
eral, and  rest  not  satisfied  till  they  arrive  at  those  or- 
iginal principles,  by  which,  in  every  science,  all  human 
curiosity  must  be  bounded.  Though  their  speculations 
seem  abstract,  and  even  unintelligible  to  common  read- 
ers, they  aim  at  the  approbation  of  the  learned  and  the 
wise;  and  think  themselves  sufficiently  compensated 
for  the  labour  of  their  whole  lives,  if  they  can  discover 
some  hidden  truths,  which  may  contribute  to  the  in- 
struction of  posterity. 

It  is  certain  that  the  easy  and  obvious  philosophy 
will  always,  with  the  generality  of  mankind,  have  the 
preference  above  the  accurate  and  abstruse ;  «ind  by 
many  will  be  recommended,  not  only  as  more  agree- 
able, but  more  useful  than  the  other.  It  enters  more 
into  common  life;  moulds  the  heart  and  affection's; 
and,  by  touching  those  principles  which  actuate  men, 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  3 

reforms  their  conduct,  and  brings  them  nearer  to  that 
model  of  perfection  which  it  describes.  On  the  con- 
trary, the  abstruse  philosophy,  being  founded  on  a 
turn  of  mind,  which  cannot  enter  into  business  and 
action,  vanishes  when  the  philosopher  leaves  the  shade, 
and  comes  into  open  day ;  nor  can  its  principles  easily 
retain  any  influence  over  our  conduct  and  behaviour. 
The  feelings  of  our  heart,  the  agitation  of  our  passions, 
the  vehemence  of  our  affections,  dissipate  all  its  con- 
clusions, and  reduce  the  profound  philosopher  to  a 
mere  plebeian. 

This  also  must  be  confessed,  that  the  most  dur- 
able, as  well  as  justest  fame,  has  been  acquired  by  the 
easy  philosophy,   and  that  abstract   reasoners  seem 
hitherto  to  have  enjoyed  only  a  momentary  reputation, 
from  the  caprice  or  ignorance  of  their  own  age,  but 
have  not  been  able  to  support  their  renown  with  more 
equitable  posterity.     It  is  easy  for  a  profound  philos- 
opher to  commit  a  mistake  in  his  subtile  reasonings; 
and  one  mistake  is  the  necessary  parent  of  another, 
while  he  pushes  on  his  consequences,  and  is  not  de- 
terred from  embracing  any  conclusion,  by  its  unusual 
j    appearance,  or  its  contradiction  to  popular  opinion. 
I    But  a  philosopher,  who  purposes  only  to  represent  the 
'   common  sense  of  mankind  in  more  beautiful  and  more 
I    engaging  colours,  if  by  accident  he  falls  into  error, 
i   goes  no  farther;  but  renewing  his  appeal  to  common 
I  sense,  and  the  natural  sentiments  of  the  mind,  returns 
into  the  right  path,  and  secures  himself  from  any  dan- 
gerous illusions.     The  fame  of  Cicero  flourishes  at 
present;  but  that  of  Aristotle  is  utterly  decayed.     La 
Bruy^re  passes  the  seas,  and  still  maintains  his  repu- 
tation :  But  the  glory  of  Malebranche  is  confined  to 
his  0W41  nation,  and  to  his  own  age.     And  Addison, 


,/ 


4  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

perhaps,  will  be  read  with  pleasure,  when  Locke  shaL' 
be  entirely  forgotten. 

The  mere  philosopher  is  a  character,  which  is  com- 
monly but  little  acceptable  in  the  world,  as  being  sup- 
posed to  contribute  nothing  either  to  the  advantage 
or  pleasure  of  society ;  while  he  lives  remote  from 
communication  with  mankind,  and  is  wrapped  up  in 
principles  and  notions  equally  remote  from  their  com- 
prehension.^ On  the  other  hand,  the  mere  ignorant  is 
still  more  despised ;  nor  is  any  thing  deemed  a  surer 
sign  of  an  illiberal  genius  in  an  age  and  nation  where 
the  sciences  flourish,  than  to  be  entirely  destitute  of 
all  relish  for  those  noble  entertainments.  The  most 
perfect  character  is  supposed  to  lie  between  those  ex- 
tremes ;  retaining  an  equal  ability  and  taste  for  books, 
company,  and  business ;  preserving  in  conversation 
that  discernment  and  delicacy  which  arise  from  polite 
letters;  and  in  business,  that  probity  and  accuracy 
which  are  the  natural  result  of  a  just  philosophy.  In 
order  to  diffuse  and  cultivate  so  accomplished  a  char- 
acter, nothing  can  be  more  useful  than  compositions 
of  the  easy  style  and  manner,  which  draw  not  too 
much  from  life,  require  no  deep  application  or  retreat 
to  be  comprehended,  and  send  back  the  student  among 
mankind  full  of  noble  sentiments  and  wise  precepts, 
applicable  to  every  exigence  of  human  life.  By  mean.s 
of  such  compositions,  virtue  becomes  amiable,  science 
agreeable,  company  instructive,  and  retirement  enter- 
taining. 

I  Man  is  a  reasonable  being ;  and  as  such,  receives 
from  science  his  proper  food  and  nourishment :  But 
so  narrow  are  the  bounds  of  human  understanding, 
that  little  satisfaction  can  be  hoped  for  in  this  partic- 
ular, either  from  the  extent  or  security  of  his  acquisi- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  5 

tions.     Man  is  a  sociable,  no  less  than  a  reasonable 
being :    But  neither  can  he  always  enjoy  company 
agreeable  and  amusing,  or  preserve  the  proper  relish 
for  them.     Man  is  also  an  active  bein^  ;   and  from 
that  disposition,  as  well  as  from  the  various  necessities 
of  human  life,  must  submit  to  business  and  occupa- 
tion :  But  the  mind  requires  some  relaxation,  and  can- 
not always  support  its  bent  to  care  and  industry.     It  \ 
seems,  then,  that  nature  has  pointed  out  a  mixed  kind  \  *^ 
of  life  as  most  suitable  to  the  human  race,  and  secretly  ; 
admonished  them  to  allow  none  of  these  biasses  to  ; 
draw  too  much,  so  as  to  incapacitate  them  for  other 
occupations  and  entertainments.   Indulge  your  passion . 
for  science,  says  she,  but  let  your  science  be  human,  | 
and  such  as  may  have  a  direct  reference  to  action  and  i 
society.    Abstruse  thought  and  profound  researches  I 
prohibit,  and  will  severely  punish,  by  the  pensive  mel- 
ancholy which  they  introduce,  by  the  endless  uncer- 
tainty in  which  they  involve  you,  and  by  the  cold  re- 
ception which  your  pretended  discoveries  shall  meet 
with,  when  communicated.   JBe  a  philosopher;  but,  1 
amidst  all  your  philosophy,  be  still  a  man^^  ' 

Were  the  generality  of  mankind  contented  to  pre- 
fer the  easy  philosophy  to  the  abstract  and  profound, 
without  throwing  any  blame  or  contempt  on  the  latter, 
it  might  not  be  improper,  perhaps,  to  comply  with  this 
general  opinion,  and  allow  every  man  to  enjoy,  with- 
out opposition,  his  own  taste  and  sentiment.  But  as 
the  matter  is  often  carried  farther,  even  to  the  absolute 
rejecting  of  all  profound  reasonings,  or  what  is  com- 
monly called  metaphysics^  we  shall  now  proceed  to  con- 
sider what  can  reasonably  be  pleaded  in  their  behalf. 
I  We  may  begin  with  observing,  that  one  consider- 
able advantage,  which  results  from  the  accurate  and 


e  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

]  abstract  philosophy,  is,  its  subserviency  to  the  easy 
and  humane,   which,  without  the  former,  can  never 

I  attain  a  sufficient  degree  of  exactness  in  its  sentiments, 
precepts,  or  reasoning^  All  polite  letters  are  nothing 
but  pictures  of  human  life  in  various  attitudes  and 
situations ;  and  inspire  us  with  different  sentiments, 
of  praise  or  blame,  admiration  or  ridicule,  according 
to  the  qualities  of  the  object,  which  they  set  before 
us.  An  artist  must  be  better  qualified  to  succeed  in 
this  undertaking,  who,  besides  a  delicate  taste  and  a 
quick  apprehension,  possesses  an  accurate  knowledge 
of  the  internal  fabric,  the  operations  of  the  under- 
standing, the  workings  of  the  passions,  and  the  various 
species  of  sentiment  which  discriminate  vice  and  vir- 
tue. How  painful  soever  this  inward  search  or  en- 
quiry may  appear,  it  becomes,  in  some  measure,  re- 
quisite to  those,  who  would  describe  with  success  the 
obvious  and  outward  appearances  of  life  and  manners. 
The  anatomist  presents  to  the  eye  the  most  hideous 
and  disagreeable  objects ;  but  his  science  is  useful  to 
the  painter  in  delineating  even  a  Venus  or  an  Helen. 
While  the  latter  employs  all  the  richest  colours  of  his 
art,  and  gives  his  figures  the  most  graceful  and  en- 
gaging airs ;  he  must  still  carry  his  attention  to  the 
inward  structure  of  the  human  body,  the  position  of 
the  muscles,  the  fabric  of  the  bones,  and  the  use  and 
figure  of  every  part  or  organ.  (.Accuracy  is,  in  every 

f   case,  advantageous  to  beauty,  and  just  reasoning  to 
delicate  sentiment.     In  vain  would  we  exalt  the  one 
f     by  depreciating  the  otherTy 

Besides,  we  may  obs'erve,  in  every  art  or  profes- 
sion, even  those  which  most  concern  life  or  action, 
that  a  spirit  of  accuracy,  however  acquired,  carries  all 
of  them  nearer  their  perfection,   and  renders  them^ 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  7 

more  subservient  to  the  interests  of  society.  And 
though  a  philosopher  may  live  remote  from  business, 
the  genius  of  philosophy,  if  carefully  cultivated  by  sev- 
eral, must  gradually  diffuse  itself  throughout  the  whole 
society,  and  bestow  a  similar  correctness  on  every 
art  and  calling.  The  politician  will  acquire  greater 
foresight  and  subtility,  in  the  subdividing  and  balanc- 
ing of  power  ;  the  lawyer  more  method  and  finer  prin- 
ciples in  his  reasonings ;  and  the  general  more  regular- 
ity in  his  discipline,  and  more  caution  in  his  plans 
and  operations.  The  stability  of  modern  governments 
above  the  ancient,  and  the  accuracy  of  modern  philos- 
ophy, have  improved,  and  probably  will  still  improve, 
by  similar  gradations. 

Were  there  no  advantage  to  be  reaped  from  these 
studies,  beyond  the  gratification  of  an  innocent  curios- 
ity, yet  ought  not  even  this  to  be  despised  ;  as  being 
one  accession  to  those  few  safe  and  harmless  pleasures, 
which  are  bestowed  on  the  human  race./Jhe  sweetest 
and  most  inoffensive  path  of  life  leads  through  the 
avenues  of  science  and  learning  ;^  and  Avhoever^an 
either  remove  any  obstructions  in  this  way,  or  open 
up  any  new  prospect,  ought  so  far  to'be  esteemed  a 
benefactor  to  mankind^And  though  these  researches 
may  appear  painful  and  fatiguing,  it  is  with  some 
minds  as  with  some  bodies,  which  being  endowed  with 
vigorous  and  florid  health,  require  severe  exercise, 
and  reap  a  pleasure  from  what,  to  the  generality  of 
mankind,  may  seem  burdensome  and  laborious.  Ob- 
scurity, indeed,  is  painful  to  the  mind  as  well  as  to  the 
eye ;  but  to  bring  light  from  obscurity,  by  whatever 
labour,  must  needs  be  delightful  and  rejoicing. 

But  this  obscurity  in  the  profound  and  abstract 
philosophy,  is  objected  to,   not  only  as  painful  and 


\ 


g  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

fatiguing,  but  as  the  inevitable  source  of  uncertainty 
and  error.  Here  indeed  lies  the  justest  and  most 
plausible  objection  against  a  considerable  part  of  meta- 
/physics,  that  they  are  not  properly  a  science ;  but  arise 
either  from  the  fruitless  efforts  of  human  vanity,  which 
would  penetrate  into  subjects  utterly  inaccessible  to 
the  understanding,  or  from  the  craft  of  popular  super- 
stitions, which,  being  unable  to  defend  themselves  on 
fair  ground,  raise  these  intangling  brambles  to  cover 
and  protect  their  weakness.  Chaced  from  the  open 
country,  these  robbers  fly  into  the  forest,  and  lie  in 
wait  to  break  in  upon  every  unguarded  avenue  of  the 
mind,  and  overwhelm  it  with  religious  fears  and  pre- 
judices. The  stoutest  antagonist,  if  he  remit  his  watch 
a  moment,  is  oppressed.  And  many,  through  cow- 
ardice and  folly,  open  the  gates  to  the  enecnies,  and 
willingly  receive  them  with  reverence  and  submission, 
as  their  legal  sovereigns. 

But  is  this  a  sufficient  reason,  why  philosophers 
should  desist  from  such  researches,  and  leave  super- 
stition still  in  possession  of  her  retreat?  Is  it  not 
proper  to  draw  an  opposite  conclusion,  and  perceive 
the  necessity  of  carrying  the  war  into  the  most  secret 
recesses  of  the  enemy?  In  vain  do  we  hope,  that  men, 
from  frequent  disappointment,  will  at  last  abandon 
such  airy  sciences,  and  discover  the  proper  province 
of  human  reason.  For,  besides,  that  many  persons 
find  too  sensible  an  interest  in  perpetually  recalling 
such  topics ;  besides  this,  I  say,  the  motive  of  blind 
despair  can  never  reasonably  have  place  in  the  sci- 
ences; since,  however  unsuccessful  former  attempts 
may  have  proved,  there  is  still  room  to  hope,  that  the 
industry,  good  fortune,  or  improved  sagacity  of  suc- 
ceeding generations  may  reach  discoveries  unknown 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  9 

to  former  ages.    Each  adventurous  genius  will  leap  at 
the  arduous  prize,  and  find  himself  stimulated,  rather 
than  discouraged,  by  the  failures  of  his  predecessors ; 
while  he  hopes  that  the  glory  of  achieying  so  hard  an 
adventure  is  reserved  for  him  alone./OPhe  only  methd^ 
of  freeing  learning,  at  once,  from  these  abstruse  quesA  ^^ 
tions,  is  to  enquire  seriously  into  the  nature  of  human  J 
understanding,  and  show,  from  an  exact  analysis  of  | 
its  powers  and  capacity,  that  it  is  by  no  means  fitted  1 
for  such  remote  and  abstruse  subjects.  We  must  sub-   yo 
mit  to  this  fatigue,  in  order  to  live  at  ease  ever  after  :    \ 
And  must  cultivate  true  metaphysics  with  some  care,  \  ,^J^^ 
in  order  to  destroy  the  false  and  adulteratey^  Indo^i/    / 
lence,  which,  to  some  persons,   affords  a  safeguard 
against  this  deceitful  philosophy,  is,  with  others,  over- 
balanced by  curiosity ;  and  despair,  which,  at  some 
moments,  prevails,  may  give  place  afterwards  to  san- 
guine hopes  and  expectations.  XAccurate  and  just  rea- 
soning is  the  only  catholic  remedy,  fitted  for  all  per- 
sons and  all  dispositions  f7and  is  alone  able  to  subvert 
that  abstruse   philosopKy  and  metaphysical   jargon, 
which,  being  mixed  up  with  popular  superstition,  ren- 
ders it  in  a  manner  impenetrable  to  careless  reasoners, 
and  gives  it  the  air  of  science  and  wisdom. 

Besides  this  advantage  of  rejecting,  after  deliberate 
enquiry,  the  most  uncertain  and  disagreeable  part  of 
learning,  there  are  many  positive  advantages,  which 
result  from  an  accurate  scrutiny  into  the  powers  and 
faculties  of  human  nature.  It  is  remarkable  concern-/^ 
ing  the  operations  of  the  mind,  that,  though  most  in- 
timately present  to  us,  yet,  whenever  they  become  the 
object  of  reflexion,  they  seem  involved  in  obscurity ; 
nor  can  the  eye  readily  find  those  lines  and  boundaries, 
w^iich  discriminate  and  distinguish  them.  The  objects 


I 


xo  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

are  too  fine  to  remain  long  in  the  same  aspect  or  situa- 
tion ;  and  must  be  apprehended  in  an  instant,  by  a 
superior  penetration,  derived  from  nature,  and  im- 
proved by  habit  and  reflexion.  It  becomes,  therefore, 
no  inconsiderable  part  of  science  barely  to  know  the 
different  operations  of  the  mind,  to  separate  them  from 
each  other,  to  class  them  under  their  proper  heads, 
and  to  correct  all  that  seeming  disorder,  in  which  they 
lie  involved,  when  made  the  object  of  reflexion  and  en- 
quiry. This  talk  of  ordering  and  distinguishing,  which 
has  no  merit,  when  performed  with  regard  to  external 
bodies,  the  objects  of  our  senses,  rises  in  its  value, 
when  directed  towards  the  operations  of  the  mind,  in 
proportion  to  the  difficulty  and  labour,  which  we  meet 
with  in  performing  it.  And  if  we  can  go  no  farther 
than  this  mental  geography,  or  delineation  of  the  dis- 
tinct parts  and  powers  of  the  mind,  it  is  at  least  a 
satisfaction  to  go  so  far ;  and  the  more  obvious  this 
science  may  appear  (and  it  is  by  no  means  obvious) 
the  more  contemptible  still  must  the  ignorance  of  it 
be  esteemed,  in  all  pretenders  to  learning  and  philos- 
ophy. 

Nor  can  there  remain  any  suspicion,  that  this  sci- 
ence is  uncertain  and  chimerical ;  unless  we  should 
entertain  such  a  scepticism  as  is  entirely  subversive  of 
all  speculation,  and  even  action./j.t  cannot  be  doubted, 
;\that  the  mind  is  endowed  with  several  powers  and 
faculties,   that  these  powers  are  distinct  from  each 
other,  that  what  is  really  distinct  to  the  immediate 
[.  perception  may  be  distinguished  by  reflexion;  and 
/   consequently,  that  there  is  a  truth  and  falsehood  in 
\    all  propositions  on  this  subject,  and  a  truth  and  false- 
I    (hood,  which  lie,  not  beyond  the  compass  of  human 
^^understanding.  /  There  are  many  obvious  distinctions 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  ix 

of  this  kind,  such  as  those  between  the  will  and  un- 
derstanding, the  imagination  and  passions,  which  fall 
within  the  comprehension  of  every  human  creature ; 
and  the  finer  and  more  philosophical  distinctions  are 
no  less  real  and  certain,  though  more  difficult  to  be 
comprehended.  Some  instances,  especially  late  ones, 
of  success  in  these  enquiries,  may  give  us  a  juster  no- 
tion of  the  certainty  and  solidity  of  this  branch  of 
learning.  And  shall  we  esteem  it  worthy  the  labour 
of  a  philosopher  to  give  us  a  true  system  of  the  plan- 
ets, and  adjust  the  position  and  order  of  those  remote 
bodies ;  while  we  affect  to  overlook  those,  who,  with 
so  much  success,  delineate  the  parts  of  the  mind,  in 
which  we  are  so  intimately  concerned  ? 

But  may  we  not  hope,  that  philosophy,  if  culti- 
vated with  care,^  and  encouraged  by  the  attention  of 
the  public,  may  carry  its  researches  still  farther^  and 
discover,  at  least  in  some  degree,  the  secret  springs 
and  principles,  by  which  the  human  mind  is  actuated 
in  its  operations  ?  Astronomers  had  long  contented 
themselves  with  proving,  from  the  phaenomena,  the 
true  motions,  order,  and  magnitude  of  the  heavenly 
bodies :  Till  a  philosopher,  at  last,  arose,  who  seems, 
from  the  happiest  reasoning,  to  have  also  determined 
the  laws  and  forces,  by  which  the  revolutions  of  the 
planets  are  governed  and  directed.  The  like  has  been 
performed  with  regard  to  other  parts  of  nature.  And 
there  is  no  reason  to  despair  of  equal  success  in  our 
enquiries  concerning  the  mental  powers  and  economy, 
if  prosecuted  with  equal  capacity  and  caution.  It  is 
probable,  that  one  operation  and  principle  of  the  mind 
depends  on  another;  which,  again,  may  be  resolved 
into  one  more  general  and  universal :  And  how  far 
these  researches  may  possibly  be  carried,  it  will  be 


la  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

difficult  for  us,  before,  or  even  after,  a  careful  trial, 
exactly  to  determine.  This  is  certain,  that  attempts 
fof  this  kind  are  every  day  made  even  by  tliose  who 
philosophize  the  most  negligently :  And  nothing  can 
be  more  .requisite  than  to  enter  upon  the  enterprize 
with  thorough  care  and  attention  ;  that,  if  it  lie  within 
the  compass  of  human  understanding,  it  may  at  last 
be  happily  achieved ;  if  not,  it  may,  however,  be  re- 
jected with  some  confidence  and  security.  This  last 
conclusion,  surely,  is  not  desirable  ;  nor  ought  it  to  be 
embraced  too  rashly.  For  how  much  must  we  dimin- 
ish from  the  beauty  and  value  of  this  species  of  phi- 
losophy, upon  such  a  supposition?  Moralists  ha\'e 
hitherto  been  accustomed,  when  they  considered  the 
vast  multitude  and  diversity  of  those  actions  that  ex- 
cite our  approbation  or  dislike,  to  search  for  some 
common  principle,  on  which  this  variety  of  sentiments 
might  depend.  And  though  they  have  sometimes  car- 
ried the  matter  too  far,  by  their  passion  for  some  one 
general  principle ;  it  must,  however,  be  confessed, 
that  they  are  excusable  in  expecting  to  find  some  gen- 
eral principles,  into  which  all  the  vices  and  virtues 
were  justly  to  be  resolved.  The  like  has  been  the 
endeavour  of  critics,  logicians,  and  even  politicians : 
Nor  have  their  attempts  been  wholly  unsuccessful; 
though  perhaps  longer  time,  greater  accuracy,  and 
more  ardent  application  may  bring  these  sciences  still 
nearer  their  perfection.  To  throw  up  at  once  all  pre- 
tensions of  this  kind  may  justly  be  deemed  more  rash, 
precipitate,  and  dogmatical,  than  even  the  boldest  and 
most  affirmative  philosophy,  that  has  ever  attempted 
to  impose  its  crude  dictates  and  principles  on  man- 
kind. 

What  though  these  reasonings  concerning  human 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  13 

nature  seem  abstract,  and  of  difficult  comprehension  ? 
This  affords  no  presumption  of  their  falsehood.  On 
the  contrary,  it  seems  impossible,  that  what  has  hith- 
erto escaped  so  many  wise  and  profound  philosophers 
can  be  very  obvious  and  easy.  And  whatever  pains 
these  researches  may  cost  us,  we  may  think  ourselves 
sufficiently  rewarded,  not  only  in  point  of  profit  but  of 
pleasure,  if,  by  that  means,  we  can  make  any  addition 
to  our  stock  of  knowledge,  in  subjects  of  such  un- 
speakable importance. 

But  as,  after  all,  the  abstractedness  of  these  specu- 
lations is  no  recommendation,  but  rather  a  disadvan- 
tage to  them,  and  as  this  difficulty  may  perhaps  be 
surmounted  by  care  and  art,  and  the  avoiding  of  all 
unnecessary  detail,  we  have,  in  the  following  enquiry, 
attempted  to  throw  some  light  upon  subjects,  from 
which  uncertainty  has  hitherto  deterred  the  wise,  and 
obscurity  the  ignorant.^  Happy,  if  we  can  unite  the  , 
boundaries  of  the  differeijt  species  of  philosophy,  by^^ 
reconciling  profound  enquiry  with  clearness,  and  truth 
with  novelty !  And  still  more  happy,  if  reasoning  in 
this  easy  manner,  we  can  undermine  the  foundations 
of  an  abstruse  philosophy,  which  seems  to  have  hith- 
erto served  only  as  a  shelter  to  superstition,  and  a 
cover  to  absurdity  and  error  I 


t 


i 


G 


SECTION  II. 

XOP  THE  ORIGIN  OF  IDEAS. 

EVERY  one  will  readily  allow,  that  there  is  a  con- 
siderable difference  between  the  perceptions  of 
the  mind,  when  a  man  feels  the  pain  of  excessive  heat, 
or  the  pleasure  of  moderate  warmth,  and  when  he  aft- 
erwards recalls  to  his  memory  this  sensation,  or  antic- 
ipates it  by  his  imagination^  These  faculties  may 
mimic  or  copy  the  perceptions  of  the  senses ;  but  they 
never  can  entirely  reach  the  force  and  vivacity  of  the 
original  sentiment.  The  utmost  we  say  of  them,  even 
when  they  operate  with  greatest  vigour,  is,  that  they 
represent  their  object  in  so  lively  a  manner,  that  we 
could  almost  say  we  feel  or  see  it :  But,  except  the 
mind  be  disordered  by  disease  or  madness,  they  never 
can  arrive  at  such  a  pitch  of  vivacity,  as  to  render 
these  perceptions  altogether  undistinguishable.  All 
the  colours  of  poetry,  however  splendid,  can  never 
paint  natural  objects  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make  the 
description  be  taken  for  a  real  landskip.  _The  most 
lively  thought  is  still  inferior  to  the  dullest  sensation.J 

We  may  observe  a  like  distinction  to  run  through 
all  the  other  perceptions  of  the  mind.  A  man  in  a  fi. 
of  anger,  is  actuated  in  a  very  different  manner  from 
one  who  only  thinks  of  that  emotion.  If  you  tell  me, 
that  any  person  is  in  love,  I  easily  understand  your 
meaning,  and  form  a  just  conception  of  his  situation ; 
but  never  can  mistake  that  conception  for  the  real 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  15 

disorders  and  agitations  of  the  passion.  '  When  we 
reflect  on  our  past  sentiments  and  affections,  our 
thought  is  a  faithful  mirror,  and  copies  its  objects 
truly ;  but  the  colours  which  it  employs  are  faint  and 
dull,  in  comparison  of  those  in  which  our  original  per- 
ceptions were  clothed.  It  requires  no  nice  discern- 
ment or  metaphysical  head  to  mark  the  distinction  be- 
tween themry 

Here  therefore  we  may  divide  all  the  perceptions 
of  the  mind  into  two  classes  or  species,  which  are  dis- 
tingu^hed  by  their  different  degrees  of  force  and  vivac- 
ity,  rjhe  less  forcible  and  lively  are  commonly  de- 
nominated Thoughts  ox  IdecuQ'TYie  other  species  want      1 
a  name  in  our  language,  and  in  most  others ;  I  sup- 
pose, because  it  was  not  requisite  for  any,  but  philos- 
ophical purpose^  to  rank  them  under  a  general  term 
or  appellation.^Let  us,  therefore,  use  a  little  freedom, 
and  call  them  Im^resswnsJ? employing  that  word  in  a    [[ 
sense  somewhat  differenTTrom  the  usual.J^y  the  term  1\ 
impression,  then,  I  mean  all  our  more  lively  percep-  II 
tions,  when  we  hear,  or  see,  or  feel,  or  love,  or  hate,   V 
or  desire,  or  will.  /And  impressions  are  distinguishe^^^ 
from  ideas,  whicli  are  the  less  lively  perceptions,  of 
which  we  are  conscious,  when  we  reflect  on  ajjy  of 
those  sensations  or  movements  above  mentioned.! 

Nothing,  at  first  view,  may  seem  more  unbounded 
than  the  thought  of  man,  which  not  only  escapes  all 
human  power  and  authority,  but  is  not  even  restrained 
within  the  limits  of  nature  and  reality.  To  form  mon- 
sters, and  join  incongruous  shapes  and  appearances, 
costs  the  imagination  no  more  troubie  than  to  conceive 
the  most  natural  and  familiar  objects.  And  while  the 
body  is  confined  to  one  planet,  along  which  it  creeps 
with  pain  and  difficulty ;  the  thought  can  in  an  instant 


i6  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

transport  us  into  the  most  distant  regions  of  the  uni- 
verse ;  or  even  beyond  the  universe,  into  the  un- 
bounded chaos,  where  nature  is  supposed  to  lie  in  total 
confusion.  What  never  was  seen,  or  heard  of,  may 
yet  be  conceived ;  nor  is  any  thing  beyond  the  power 
of  thought,  except  what  implies  an  absolute  contra- 
diction. 

«-^  But  though  our  thought  seems  to  possess  this  un- 

!  .    bounded  liberty,  we  shall  find,  upon  a  nearer  examina- 
tion, that  it  is  really  confined  within  very  narrow  lim- 
its,  and    that    all    this   creative    power   of   the    mind 
j  amounts  to  no  more  than  the  faculty  of  compounding 

tC^  i  transposing,  augmenting,  or  diminishing  the  materials 
afforded  us  by  the  senses  and  experience.'  When  we 
think  of  a  golden  mountain,  we  only  join  two  consist- 
ent ideas,  gold,  and  mountain,  with  which  we  were 
formerly  acquainted.  A  virtuous  horse  we  can  con- 
ceive ;  because,  from  our  own  feeling,  we  can  conceive 
virtue ;  and  this  we  may  unite  to  the  figure  and  shape 
of  a  horse,  which  is  an  animal  familiar  to  us.j  In  short, 
all  the  materials  of  thinking  are  derived  either  from 
our  outward  or  inward  sentiment :  the  mixture  and 
composition  of  these  belongs  alone  to  the  mind  and 
will.  Or,  to  express  myself  in  philosophical  language, 
all  our  ideas i^or  more  feeble  perceptions  jare  copies  of 
our  impressions(or  more  lively  ones.Jj 
■^  To  prove  this,  the  two  following  arguments  wil], 
I  hope,  be  sufficient./. First,  when  we  analyze  our 
thoughts  or  ideas,  however  compounded  or  sublime, 

y^  we  always  find  that  they  resolve  themselves  into  such 
simple  ideas  as  were  copied  from  a  precedent  feeling 
or  sentimen^  Even  those  ideas,  which,  at  first  view, 
seem  the  most  wide  of  this  origin,  are  fojund,  upon  a 
nearer  scrutiny,  to  be  derived  from  it.   /  The  idea  of 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  17 

God,  as  meaning  an  infinitely  intelligent,  wise,  and 
good  Being,  arises  from  reflecting  on  the  operations  of 
our  own  mind,  and  augmenting,  without  limit,  those  a 
qualities  of  goodness  and  wisdom.'7We  may  prosecute  ^ 
this  enquiry  to  what  length  we  please  ;  where  we  shall 
always  find,  that  every  idea  which  we  examine  is  copied 
from  a  similar  impression/T  Those  who  would  assert 
that  this  position  is  not  universally  true  nor  without 
exception,  have  only  one,  and  that  an  easy  method  of 
refuting  it ;  by  producing  that  idea,  which,  in  their 
opinion,  is  not  derived  from  this  source.  It  will  then 
be  incumbent  on  us,  if  we  would  maintain  our  doc- 
trine, to  produce  the  impression,  or  lively  perception, 
which  correspon^is  to  it. 

Secondly.  ]\i  it  happen,  from  a  defect  of  the  or- 
gan,  that  a  man  is  not  susceptible  of  any  species  of  '^ 
sensation,^  we  always  find  that  he  is  as  little  suscept- 
ible of  the  correspondent  ideasJ  A  blind  man  can  form 
no  notion  of  colours;  a  deaf  man  of  sounds.  Restore 
either  of  them  that  sense  in  which  he  is  deficient ;  by 
opening  this  new  inlet  for  his  sensations,  you  also 
open  an  inlet  for  the  ideas ;  and  he  finds  no  difficulty 
in  conceiving  these  objects.  J  The  case  is  the  same,  if 
the  object,  proper  for  excitilig  any  sensation,  has  never 
been  applied  to  the  organ.  A  Laplander  or  Negro 
has  no  notion  of  the  relish  of  wine.  And  though  there 
are  few  or  no  instances  of  a  like  deficiency  in  the^ 
mind,  where  a  person  has  never  felt  or  is  wholly  in- 
capable of  a  sentiment  or  passion  that  belongs  to  his 
species;  yet  we  find  the  same  observation  to  take  place 
in  a  less  degree.  A  man  of  mild  manners  can  form  no 
idea  of  inveterate  revenge  or  cruelty ;  nor  can  a  selfish 
heart  easily  conceive  the  heights  of  friendship  and 
generosity.     It  is  readily  allowed,  that  other  beings 


■R 


i8  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

may  possess  many  senses  of  which  we  can  have  no 

conception ;  because  the  ideas  of  them  have   never 

,  been  introduced  to  us  in  the  only  manner  by  which  an 

(i  idea  can  have  access  to  the  mind,  to  wit,  by  the  actual 
I  feeling  and  sensation.^ 

There  is,  however,  one  contradictory  phenomenon, 
which  may  prove  that  it  is  not  absolutely  impossible 
for  ideas  to  arise,  independent  of  their  correspondent 
impressions.  I  believe  it  will  readily  be  allowed,  that 
the  several  distinct  ideas  of  colour,  which  enter  by  the 
eye,  or  those  of  sound,  which  are  conveyed  by  the  ear, 
are  really  different  from  each  other ;  though,  at  the 
same  time,  resembling.  Now  if  this  be  true  of  differ- 
ent colours,  it  must  be  no  less  so  of  the  different 
shades  of  the  same  colour ;  and  each  shade  produces 
a  distinct  idea,  independent  of  the  rest.  For  if  this 
should  be  denied,  it  is  possible,  by  the  continual  gra- 
dation of  shades,  to  run  a  colour  insensibly  into  what 
is  most  remote  from  it;  and  if  you  will  not  allow  any 
of  the  means  to  be  different,  you  cannot,  without  ab- 
surdity, deny  the  extremes  to  be  the  same.  Suppose, 
therefore,  a  person  to  have  enjoyed  his  sight  for  thirty 
years,  and  to  have  become  perfectly  acquainted  with 
colours  of  all  kinds  except  one  particular  shade  of 
blue,  for  instance,  which  it  never  has  been  his  fortune 
to  meet  with.  Let  all  the  different  shades  of  that 
colour,  except  that  single  one,  be  placed  before  him, 
descending  gradually  from*the  deepest  to  the  lightest; 
it  is  plain  that  he  will  perceive  a  blank,  where  that 
shade  is  wanting,  and  will  be  sensible  that  there  is  a 
greater  distance  in  that  place  between  the  contiguous 
colours  than  in  any  other.  Now  I  ask,  whether  it  be 
possible  for  him,  from  his  own  imagination,  to  supply 
^  this  deficiency,  and  raise  up  to  himself  the  idea  of  that 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  19 

particular  shade,  though  it  had  never  been  conveyed  )^ 

to  him  by  his  senses?   I  believe  there  are  few  but  will  ^v^  - 
be  of  opinion  that  he  can:  and  this  may  serve  as  a      ^^ 

prnnfjjhat    J:h«^  t;imp1f^    j'^'^rliS    R^*^    ^'^^    alw^nygj   in  eVCry      ^/^ 

instance,  derived  froni  the  correspondent  impressioQ^ ; 
though  this  mstance  is  so  singular,  that  it  is  scarcely 
worth  our  observing,  and  does  not  merit  that  for  it 
alone  we  should  alter  our  general  maxim. 

Here,  therefore,  is  a  proposition,  which  not  only 
seems,  in  itself,  simple  and  intelligible;  but,  if  a 
proper  use  were  made  of  it,  might  render  every  dis- 
pute equally  intelligible,  and  banish  all  that  jargon, 
which  has  so  long  taken  possession  of  metaphysical 
reasonings,  and  drawn  disgrace  upon  them. /All  ideas, 
especially  abstract  ones,  are  naturally  faint  and  ob- 
scure :  the  mind  has  but  a  slender  hold  of  them  :  they 
are  apt  to  be  confounded  with  other  resembling  ideas  J 
and  when  we  have  often  employed  any  term,  though 
without  a  distinct  meaning,  we  are  apt  to  imagine  it 
has  a  determinate  idea  annexed  to  it.  On  the  con- 
trary, all  impressions,  that  is,  all  sensations,  either 
outward  or  inward,  are  strong  and  vivid  :  the  limits 
between  them  are  more  exactly  determined :  nor  is  it 
easy  to  fall  into  any  error  or  mistake  with  regard  to 
them.  When  we  entertain,  therefore,  any  suspicion" 
that  a  philosophical  term  is  employed  without  any 
meaning  or  idea  (as  is  but  too  frequent),  we  need  but 
enquire,  from  what  impr^sion  is  that  supposed  idea 
derived?  Ai^d  if  it  be  impossible  to  assign  any,  this 
will  serve   to   confirm    our  suspicion.^     By  bringing 

lit  is  probable  that  no  more  was  meant  by  those,  who  denied  innate 
ideas,  than  that  all  ideas  were  copies  of  our  impressions;  though  it  must  be 
confessed,  that  the  terms,  which  they  employed,  were  not  chosen  with  such 
caution,  nor  so  exactly  defined,  as  to  prevent  all  mistakes  about  their  doc- 
trine.  For  what  is  meant  by  innate  ?  If  innate  be  equivalent  to  natural,  then 


20  AN  ENQ  UTR  Y  CONCERNING 

ideas  into  so  clear  a  light  we  may  reasonably  hope 
to  remove  all  dispute,  which  may  arise,  concerning 
their  nature  and  reality. 

all  the  perceptions  and  ideas  of  the  mind  must  be  allowed  to  be  innate  or 
natural,  in  whatever  sense  we  take  the  latter  word,  whether  in  opposition  to 
what  is  uncommon,  artificial,  or  miraculous.  If  by  innate  be  meant,  contem- 
porary to  our  birth,  the  dispute  seems  to  be  frivolous ;  nor  is  it  worth  while 
to  enquire  at  what  time  thinking  begins,  whether  before,  at,  or  after  our 
birth.  Again,  the  word  idea,  seems  to  be  commonly  taken  in  a  very  loose 
sense,  by  Locke  and  others;  as  standing  for  any  of  our  perceptions,  our  sen- 
sations and  passions,  as  well  as  thoughts.  Now  in  this  sense,  I  should  desire 
to  know,  what  can  be  meant  by  asserting,  that  self-love,  or  resentment  of  in- 
juries, or  the  passion  between  the  sexes  is  not  innate  ? 

But  admitting  these  terms,  impressions  and  ideas,  in  the  sense  above  ex 
plained,  and  understanding  hy.innaie,  what  is  original  or  copied  from  no  pre 
cedent  perception,  then  may  we  assert  that  all  our  impressions  are  innate 
and  our  ideas  not  innate. 

To  be  ingenuous,  I  must  own  it  to  be  my  opinion,  that  Locke  was  be 
trayed  into  this  question  by  the  schoolmen,  who,  making  use  of  undefined 
terms,  draw  out  their  disputes  to  a  tedious  length,  without  ever  touching  the 
point  in  question.  A  like  ambiguity  and  circumlocution  seem  to  run  through 
that  philosopher's  reasonings  on  this  as  well  as  most  other  subjects. 


/ 


SECTION  III. 

>^  OF  THE  ASSOCIATION  OF  IDEAS. 

IT  is  evident  that /there  is  a  principle  of  connexion  j 
between   the  different  thoughts  or  ideas  of  the  \i 
mind,  and  that,  in  their  appearance  to  the  memory  or  \ 
imagination,  they  introduce  each  other  with  a  certain    I  $< 

degree  of  method  and  regularity,  jln  our  more  serious  '    ^^ 
thinking  or  discourse  this  is  so  observable  that  any  ^ 

particular  thought,  which  breaks  in  upon  the  regular  .  ^ 
tract  or  chain  of  ideas,  is  immediately  remarked  and  )^  .\^ 
rejected.^  And  even  in  our  wildest  and  most  wander-  J^ 
ing  reveries,  nay  in  our  very  dreams,  we  shall  find,  if 
we  reflect,  that  the  imagination  ran  jiot  altogether  at 
adventures,  but  that  there  was  stillja^^nnexion  up- 1 
held  among  the  different  ideas,  which  succeeded  each  - 
others  Were  the  loosest  and  freest  conversatio.n  to  be 
transcribed,  there  would  immediately  "be.  observed 
something;^  which  connected  it^n  ajl.its  transitions. 
Or  where  this  is  wanting,  the  person  who  broke  the 
thread  of  discourse  might  still  inform  you,  that  there 
had  secretly  revolved  in  his  mind  a  succession  of 
thought,  which  had  gradually  led  him  from  the  sub- 
ject of  conversation.  Among  different  languages,  even 
where  we  cannot  suspect  the  least  connexion  or  com- 
munication, it  is  found,  that  the  words,  expressive  of 
ideas,  the  most  compounded,  do  yet  nearly  correspond 
to  each  other :  a  certain  proof  that  the  simple  ideas, 
comprehended  in  the  compound  ones,  were  bound  to- 


Al^  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 


an 


gether  by  some  universal   principle,    which    had 
equal  influence  on  all  mankind. 

Though  it  be  too  obvious  to  escape  observation, 
P^that  different  ideas  are  connected  together ;  /I  do  not 
find  that  any  philosopher  has  attempted  to  enumerate 
or  class  all  the  principles  of  associatioja.;  i  a  subject, 
however,  that  seems  worthy  of  curiosity .LTo  me,  there 
appear  to  be  only  three  principles  of  connexion  among 
ideas,  Ti2.xii^\y\Resemblance^  Contiguity  in  time  or  place, 
and  Cause  or  Effect.    \ 

That  these  principles  serve  to  connect  ideas  will 
not,  I  believe,  be  much  doubted.  jA  picture  naturally 
leads  our  thoughts  to  the  original :  ^  the  mention  of 
one  apartment  in  a  building  naturally  introduces  an 
enquiry  or  discourse  concerning  the  others  :2  and  if 
we  think  of  a  wound,  we  can  scarcely  forbear  reflect- 
ing on  the  pain  which  follows  it.^  But  that  this 
enumeration  is  complete,  and  that  there  are  no  other 
principles  of  association  except  these,  may  be  difficult 
to  prove  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  reader,  or  even  to  a 
man's  own  satisfaction.  All  we  can  do,  in  such  cases, 
is  to  run  over  several  instances,  and  examine  carefully 
the  principle  which  binds  the  different  thoughts  to 
each  other,  never  stopping  till  we  render  the  principle 
as  general  as  possible.^  The  more  instances  we  exam- 
ine, and  the  more  care  we  employ,  the  more  assurance 
shall  we  acquire,  that  the  enumeration,  which  we  form 
from  the  whole,  is  complete  and  entire. 


1  Resemblance.  2  Contiguity.  3  Cause  and  effect. 

4  For  instance,  Contrast  or  Contrariety  is  also  a  connexion  among  Ideas 
but  it  may,  perhaps,  be  considered  as  a  mixture  of  Causation  and  Resem- 
blance.   Where  two  objects  are  contrary,  the  one  destroys  the  other;  that  is, 
the  cause  of  its  annihilation,  and  the  idea  of  the  annihilation  of  an  object 
implies  the  idea  of  its  former  existence. 


SECTION  IV. 

SCEPTICAL  DOUBTS  CONCERNING  THE  OPERATIONS 
OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING. 

Part  I. 

ALL  the  objects  of  human  reason  or  enquiry  may 
.  naturally  be  divided  into  two  kinds,  to  wit,  Rela^ 
iions  of  Ideas y  and  Matters  of  Factl  Of  the  first  kind  are 
the  sciences  of  Geometry,  AlgeDra,  and  Arithmetic ; 
and  in  short,  every  affirmation  which  is  either  intui- 
tively or  demonstratively  certain.  That  the  square  of 
the  hypoihenusets  equal  to  the  squares  of  the  two  sides ^  is 
a  proposition  which  expresses  a  relation  between  these 
figures.  That  three  times  five  is  equal  to  the  half  of 
thirty^  expresses  a  relation  between  these  nuipbers. 
Propositions  of  this  kind  are  discoverable  by  the  mere 
operation  of  thought,  without  dependence  on  what  is 
anywhere  existent  in  the  univers^  Though  there" 
never  were  a  circle  or  triangle  in  nature,  the  truths 
demonstrated  by  Euclid  would  for  ever  retain  their 
certainty  and  evidence.  v^.^ 

Matters  of  fact,  which  are  the  second  objects  of   V 
human  Teason,  are  not  ascertained  in  the  same  man- 
ner ;  nor  is  our  evidence  of  their  truth^  however  great,     \  > 
of  a  like  nature  with  the  foregoingj  The  contrary  of       ^^^     S 
every  matter  el  iact  is-StUl  po^ssible;  because  it  can 
never  imply  a  contradiction,  and  is  conceived  by  the 
mind  with  the  samejac^ility.  and  distinctness,  as  if  ever 


24  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

SO  conformable  to  reality.  That  the  sun  will  not  rist 
to-morrow  is  no  less  intelligible  a  proposition,  and 
implies  no  more  contradiction  than  the  affirmation, 
that  it  will  rise.  We  should  in  vain,  therefore,  attempt 
to  demonstrate  its  falsehood.  ?Were  it  demonstratively 
false,  it  would  imply  a  contradiction,  and  could  never 
X  be  distinctly  conceived  by  the  mind. 

It  may,  therefore,  be  a  subject  worthy  of  curiosity, 
to  enquire  what  is  the  nature  of  that  evidence  which 
assures  us  Si  any  real  existence  and  matter  of  fact, 
beyond  the  present  testimony  of  our  senses,  or  the 
\  records  of  our  memory.  |  This  part  of  philosophy,  it 
is  observable,  has  been  little  cultivated,  either  by  the 
ancients  or  moderns ;  and  therefore  our  doubts  and 
errors,  in  the  prosecution  of  so  important  an  enquiry, 
may  be  the  more  excusable ;  while  we  march  through 
such  difficult  paths  without  any  guide  or  direction. 
They  may  even  prove  useful,  by  exciting  curiosity, 
and  destroying  that  implicit  faith  and  security,  which 
is  the  bane  of  all  reasoning  and  free  enquiry.  The  dis- 
covery of  defects  in  the  common  philosophy,  if  any 
such  there  be,  will  not,  I  presume,  be  a  discourage- 
ment, but  rather  an  incitement,  as  is  usual,  to  attempt 
something  more  full  and  satisfactory  than  has  yet  been 
proposed  to  tjie  public. 
Ij  All  reasonings  concerning  matter  of  fact  seem  to 
ibe  founded  on  the  relation  of  Cause  and  Effect.  By 
means  of  that  relation  alone  we  can  go  beyond  the 
evidence  of  our  memory  and  senses.  If  you  were  to 
ask  a  man,  why  he  believes  any  matter  of  fact,  which 
is  absent;  for  instance,  that  his  friend  is  in 'the  coun- 
try, or  in  France ;  he  would  give  you  a  reason ;  and 
this  reason  would  be  some  other  fact ;  as  a  letter  re- 
ceived frpm  him,  or  the  knowledge  of  his  former  f^? 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  25 

olutions  and  promises.  A  man  finding  a  watch  or  any 
other  machine  in  a  desert  island,  would  conclude  that 
there  had  once  been  men  in  that  island.  JAJI  our  rea- 
sonings concerning  fact  are  of  the  same  nature^  And 
here  it  is  constantly  supposed  that  there  is  a  connexion 
between  the  present  fact  and  that  which  is  inferred 
from  it.  Were  there  nothing  to  bind  them  together, 
the  inference  would  be  entirely  precarious.  The  hear- 
ing of  an  articulate  voice  and  rational  discourse  in  the 
dark  assures  us  of  the  presence  of  some  person : 
Why  ?  because  these  are  the  effects  of  the  huinan  make 
and  fabric,  and  closely  connected  with  it. /if  we  anat- 
omize all  the  other  reasonings  of  this  nature,  we  shall 
find  that  they  are  founded  on  the  relation  of  cause  and 
effect,  and  that  this  relation  is  either  near  or  remote, 
direct  or  collateral.  Heat  and  light  are  collateral 
effects  of  fire,  and  the  one  effect  may  justly  be  inferred 
from  the  other.^ 

If  we  would  satisfy  ourselves,  therefore,  concern- 
ing the  nature  of  that  evidence,  which  assures  us  of    , 
matters  of  fact,{^e  must  enq uirei how jwe  arrive  at  the    jk 
kno3vledge  of  cause  and  effectTj^  I  ^   ^ 

:,J-shall  venture  t^  affirm,  as  a  general  proposition, 
which  admits  of  no  exception,  that  the  knowledge  of  > 

this  relation  is  not  in  any  instance,  attained  by  rea-^/ 
sonings  a^ort^vX  arises lentirely  from  experience, J^ 
when  we  find'that  any  particular  objects  are  constantly    \ 
conjoined  with  each  other.   Let  an  object  be  presented 
to  a  man  of  ever  so  strong  natural  reason  and  abilities ; 
if  that  object  be  entirely  new  to  him,  he  will  not  be 
able,  by  the  most  accurate  examination  of  its  sensible 
qualities,   to   discover  any  of   its   causes   or  effects. 
Adam,  though  his  rational  faculties  be  supposed,  at 
the  very  first,  entirely  perfect,  could  not  have  inferred 


96  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

from  the  fluidity  and  transparency  of  water  that  it 
would  suffocate  him,  or  from  the  light  and  warmth  of 
fire  that  it  would  consume  him.  No  object  ever  dis- 
covers, by  the  qualities  which  appear  to  the  senses, 
either  the  causes  which  produced  it,  or  the  effects 
which  will  arise  from  it ;  Tnor  can  our  reason,  un- 
assisted by  experience,  ever  draw  any  inference  con 
^\  cerjjing  real  existence  and  matter  of  fac^tA^ 

r  This  proposition,  that  causes  and  effects  are  discover- 
ablCy  not  by  reason  but  by  experience'^WX  readily  be  ad- 
mitted with  regard  to  such  obj^s,  as  we  remember 
to  have  once  been  altogether  unknown  to  us;  since 
we  must  be  conscious  of  the  utter  inability,  which  we 
then  lay  under,  of  foretelling  what  would  arise  from 
them.  Present  two  smooth  pieces  of  marble  to  a  man 
who  has  no  tincture  of  natural  philosophy ;  he  will 
never  discover  that  they  will  adhere  together  in  such 
a  manner  as  to  require  great  force  to  separate  them  in 
a  direct  line,  while  they  make  so  small  a  resistance  to 
a  lateral  pressure.  Such  events,  as  bear  little  analogy 
to  the  common  course  of  nature,  are  also  readily  con- 
fessed to  be  known  only  by  experience ;  nor  does  any 
man  imagine  that  the  explosion  of  gunpowder,  or  the 
attraction  of  a  loadstone,  could  ever  be  discovered  by 
arguments  a  priori.  In  like  manner,  when  an  effect 
is  supposed  to  depend  upon  an  intricate  machinery  or 
secret  structure  of  parts,  we  make  no  difficulty  in  at- 
tributing all  our  knowledge  of  it  to  experience.  Who 
")  will  assert  that  he  can  give  the  ultimate  reason,  why 
/  milk  or  bread  is  proper  nourishment  for  a  man,  not 
for  a  lion  or  a  tiger? 

But  the  same  truth  may  not  appear,  at  first  sight, 
to  have  the  same  evidence  with  regard  to  events, 
which  have  become  familiar  to  us  from  our  first  ap 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  27 

pearance  in  the  world,  which  bear  a  close  analogy  to 
the  whole  course  of  nature,  and  which  are  supposed 
to  depend  on  the  simple  qualities  of  objects,  without 
any  secret  structure  of  parts.     We  are  apt  to  imagine 
that  we  could  discover  these  effects  by  the  mere  opera- 
tion of  our  reason,  without  experience.  We  fancy,  that 
were  we  brought  on  a  sudden  into  this  world,  we  could 
at  first  have  inferred  that  one  Billiard-ball  would  com- 
municate motion  to  another  upon  impulse ;  and  that 
we  needed  not  to  have  waited  for  the  event,  in  order 
to  pronounce  with  certainty  concerning  it.     Such  is 
the  influence  of  custom,  that,  where  it  is  strongest,  it 
not  only  covers  our  natural  ignorance,  but  even  con- 
ceals itself,  and  seems  not  to  take  place,  merely  be- 
cgjjt^e  it  is  found  in  the  highest  degree. 
JUBut  to  convince  us  that  all  the  laws  of  nature,  and  /^ 
all  the  operations  of  bodies  without  exception,   are  * 
known  only  by  experi^ence,  the  following  reflections-^ 
may,  perhaps,  sufficej  Were  any  object  presented  to 
us,  and  were  we  required  to  pronounce  concerning  the 
effect,  which  will  result  from  it,  without  consulting 
past  observation ;  after  what  manner,  I  beseech  you, 
must  the  mind  proceed  in  this  operation?   It  must  in- 
vent or  imagine  some  event,  which  it  ascribes  to  the 
object  as  its  effect ;  and  it  i^  plain  that  this  invention 
must  be  entirely  arbitrary.  l,,The  mind  can  never  pos- 
sibly find  the  effect  in  the  supposed  cause,  by  the  most 
accurate  scrutiny  and  examination.     For  the  effect  is 
totally  different  from  the  cause,  and  consequently  can 
never  be  discovered  in  ixT]  Motion  in  the  second  Bil- 
liard-ball is  a  quite  distmct  event  from  motion  in  the 
first ;  nor  is  there  anything  in  the  one  to  suggest  the 
smallest  hint  of  the  other.     A  stone  or  piece  of  metal 
raised  into  the  air,  and  left  without  any  support,  im- 


28  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

mediately  falls  :  but  to  consider  the  matter  a  priori^  is 
there  anything  we  discover  in  this  situation  which  can 
beget  the  idea  of  a  downward,  rather  than  an  upward, 
or  any  other  motion,  in  the  stone  or  metal?  ^ 

And  as  the  first  imagination  or  invention  of  a  par- 
ticular effect,  in  all  natural  operations,  is  arbitrary, 
where  we  consult  not  experience ;  so  must  we  also  es- 
teem the  supposed  tie  or  connexion  between  the  cause 
and  effect,  which  binds  theri  together,  and  renders  it 
impossible  that  any  other  effect  could  result  from  the 
operation  of  that  cause.  When  I  see,  for  instance, 
a  Billiard-ball  moving  in  a  straight  line  towards  an- 
other ;  even  suppose  motion  in  the  second  ball  should 
by  accident  be  suggested  to  me,  as  the  result  of  their 
contact  or  impulse ;  may  I  not  conceive,  that  a  hun- 
dred different  events  might  as  well  follow  from  that 
cause  ?  May  not  both  these  balls  remain  at  absolute 
rest  ?  May  not  the  first  ball  return  in  a  straight  line, 
or  leap  off  from  the  second  in  any  line  or  direction  ? 
All  these  suppositions  are  consistent  and  conceivable. 
Why  then  should  we  give  the  preference  to  one,  which 
is  no  more  consistent  or  conceivable  than  the  rest  ? 
All  our  reasonings  a  priori  vi\\\  never  be  able  to  show 
us  any  foundation  for  this  preference. 

In  a  word,  then,y^ery  effect  is  a  distinct  event 
from  its  cause'./  It  could  not,  therefore,  be  discovered 
in  the  cause,  and  the  first  invention  or  conception  of 
^it,  a  priori^  must  be  entirely  arbitrary.  And  even  after 
it  is  suggested,  the  conjunction  of  it  with  the  cause 
must  appear  equally  arbitrary ;  since  there  are  always 
many  other  effects,  which,  to  reason,  must  seem  fully 
as  consistent  and  natural.  In  vain,  therefore,  should 
we  pretend  to  determine  any  single  event,  or  infer  any 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  29 

cause  or  effect,  without  the  assistance  of  observation 
and  experience. 

Hence  we  may  discover  the  reason  why  no  philos- 
opher, who  is  rational  and  modest,  has  ever  pretended 
to  assign  the  ultimate  cause  of  any  natural  operation, 
or  to  show  distinctly  the  action  of  that  poweif,  which 
produces  any  single  effect  in  the  universe.  ^  It  is  con- 
fessed, that  the  utmost  effort  of  human  reason  is  to  re-  <» 
duc.e  the  principles,  productive  of  natural  phenomena, 
to  a  greater  simplicity,  and  to  resolve  the  many  par- 
ticular effects  into  a  few  general  causes,  by  means  of 
reasonings  from  analogy,  experience,  and  observation^ 
But  as  to  the  causes^  of  these  general  causes,  we  should    y 
in  vain  attempt  their  discovery ;'  nor  shall  we  ever  be 
able  to  satisfy  ourselves,  by  any  particular  explication 
of  them.     These  ultimate  springs  and  principles  are 
totally  shut  up  from  human  curiosity  and  enquiry. 
Elasticity,  gravity,  cohesion  of  parts,  communication 
of  motion  by  impulse;  these  are  probably  the  ultimate 
causes  and  principles  which  we  ever  discover  in  nature; 
and  we  may  esteem  ourselves  sufficiently  happy,  if,  by 
accurate  inquiry  and  reasoning,  we  can  trace  up  the 
particular  phenomena  to,  or  near  to,   these  general 
principles.!  The  most  perfect  philosophy  of  the  natural 
kind  only  staves  off  our  ignorance  a  little  longer:  as 
perhaps  the  most  perfect  philosophy  of  the  moral  or 
metaphysical  kind  serves  only  to  discover  larger  por- 
tions of  it.     Thus  the  observation  of  human  blindness  , 
and  weakness  is  the  result  of  all  philosophy,  and  meets  I 
us  at  every  turn,  in  spite  of  our  endeavours  to  elude    i 
or  avoid  it. 

Nor  is  geometry,  when  taken  into  the  assistance  of 
natural  philosoph}^,  ever  able  to  remedy  this  defect,  or 
lead  us  into  the  knowledge  of  ultimate  causes,  by  all 


30  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

that  accuracy  of  reasoning  for  which  it  is  so  justly  cel- 
ebrated. Every  part  of  mixed  mathematics  proceeds 
upon  the  supposition  that  certain  laws  are  established 
by  nature  in  her  operations ;  and  abstract  reasonings 
are  employed,  either  to  assist  experience  in  the  discov- 
ery of  these  laws,  or  to  determine  their  influence  in 
particular  instances,  where  it  depends  upon  any  pre- 
cise degree  of  distance  and  quantity.  Thus,  it  is  a  law 
of  motion,  discovered  by  experience,  that  the  moment 
or  force  of  any  body  in  motion  is  in  the  compound  ra- 
tio or  proportion  of  its  solid  contents  and  its  velocity ; 
and  consequently,  that  a  small  force  may  remove  the 
greatest  obstacle  or  raise  the  greatest  weight,  if,  by 
any  contrivance  or  machinery,  we  can  increase  the  ve- 
locity of  that  force,  so  as  to  make  it  an  overmatch  for 
its  antagonist.  Geometry  assists  us  in  the  application 
of  this  law,  by  giving  us  the  just  dimensions  of  all  the 
parts  and  figures  which  can  enter  into  any  species  of 
machine ;  but  still  the  discovery  of  the  law  itself  is  ow- 
ing merely  to  experience,  and  all  the  abstract  reason- 
ings in  the  world  could  never  lead  us  one  step  towards 
the  knowledge  of  it.  When  we  reason  a  priori^  and 
consider  merely  any  object  or  cause,  as  it  appears  to 
the  mind,  independent  of  all  observation,  it  never  could 
suggest  to  us  the  notion  of  any  distinct  object,  such  as 
its  effect ;  much  less,  show  us  the  inseparable  and  in- 
violable connexion  between  them.  A  man  must  be 
very  sagacious  who  could  discover  by  reasoning  that 
crystal  is  the  effect  of  he^t,  and  ice  of  cold,  without 
being  previously  acquainted  with  the  operation  of  these 
qualities. 

Part  II. 

But  we  have  not  yet  attained  any  tolerable  satisfac- 
tion with  regard  to  the  question  first  proposed.    Each 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  31 

solution  still  gives  rise  to  a  new  question  as  difficult 
as  the  foregoing,  and  leads  us  on  to  farther  enquiries. 
When  it  is  asked,   What  is  the  nature  of  all  our  reason-  j     y 
ings  concerning  matter  of  fact  ?  the  proper  answer  seems' ^^ 
to  be,  that  they  are  founded  on  the  relation  of  cause 
and  effect.     When  again  it  is  asked.   What  is  the  foun- 
dation of  all  our  reasonings  a7id conclusions  ^concerning  that 
relation  ?  it  may  be  replied  in  one  word,  Experience. 
But  if  we  still  carry  on  our  sifting  humour,  and  ask, 
What  is  the  foundation  of  all  conclusions  from  experience?  \ 
this  implies  a  new  question,  which  may  be  of  more 
difficult  solution  and  explication.     Philosophers,  that 
give  themselves  airs  of  superior  wisdom  and  sufficiency, 
have  a  hard  task  when  they  encounter  persons  of  in- 
quisitive dispositions,  who  push  them  from  every  cor- 
ner to  which  they  retreat,  and  who  are  sure  at  last  to 
bring  them  to  some  dangerous  dilemma.   The  best  ex- 
pedient to  prevent  this  confusion,  is  to  be  modest  in    I 
our  pretensions  ;  and^ven  to  discover  the  difficulty    \ 
ourselves  before  it  is  objected  to  us.     By  this  means,      \ 
we  may  make  a  kind  of  merit  of  our  very  ignorance. 
I  shall  content  myself,  in  this  section,  with  an  easy 
task,  and  shall  pretend  only  to  give  a  negative  answer 
to  the  question  here  proposed.     I  say  then,  that,  even  ^ 
after  we  have  experience  of  the  operations  of  cause  ■. 
and  effect,  our  conclusions  from  that  experience  are  n, 
not  founded  on  reasoning,  or  any  process  of  the  under-  U\ 
standing.   This  answer  we  must  endeavour  both  to  ex- 
plajii^and  to  defend. 

j^Lt  must  certainly  be  allowed,  that  nature  has  kept 
us  at  a  great  distance  from  all  her  secrets,  and  has  af- 
forded us  only  the  knowledge  of  a  few  superficial  qual- 
ities of  objects ;  while  she  conceals  from  us  those  pow- 
ers and  principles  on  which  the  influence  of  those  ob- 


\ 


32  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

jects  entirely  depends^  Our  senses  inform  us  of  the 
colour,  weight,  and  consistence  of  bread ;  but  neither 
sense  nor  reason  can  ever  inform  us  of  those  qualities 
which  fit  it  for  the  nourishment  and  support  of  a  human 
body.  Sight  or  feeling  conveys  an  idea  of  the  actual 
motion  of  bodies ;  but  as  to  that  wonderful  force  or 
power,  which  would  carry  on  a  moving  body  for  ever 
in  a  continued  change  of  place,  and  which  bodies  never 
lose  but  by  communicating  it  to  others ;  of  this  we  can- 
r  not  form  the  most  distant  conception.     But  notvv^ith- 

standing  this  ignorance  of  natural  powers^  and  prin- 
ciples,! we  always  presume,  when  we  see  like  sensible 
qualities,  that  they  have  like  secret  powers,  and  expect 
that  effects,  similar  to  those  which  we  have  experienced, 
will  follow  from  them 3  If  a  body  of  like  colour  and 
consistence  with  that  bread,  which  we  have  formerly 
eat,  be  presented  to  us,  we  makS  no'  scruple  of  repeat- 
ing the  experiment,  and  foresee,  with  certainty,  like 
nourishment  and  support,  f  N^  this  is  a  process  of 
the  mind  or  thought,  of  which  I  would  willingly  know 
the  foundation.^  It  is  allowed  on  all  hands  that  there 
is  no  known  connexion  between  the  sensible  qualities 
and  the  secret  powers;  and  consequently,  that  the  mind 
is  not  led  to  form  such  a  conclusion  concerning  their 
constant  and  regular  conjunction,  by  anything  which  it 
_  knows  of  their  nature.  '  As  to  past  Experience,  it  can  be 
allowed  to  give  direct  and  certain  information^  Jhpse 
precise  objectsonly,  And^that  precise  period  of  time, 
which  fell  under  its  cognizance  :  but  why  this  experi- 
ence should  be  extended  to  future  times,  and  to  other 
objects,  which,  for  aught  vt^e  know,  may  be  only  in  ap- 

1  The  word.  Power,  is  here  used  in  a  loose  and  popular  sense.  The  more 
accurate  explication  of  it  would  give  additional  evidence  to  this  argument 
See  Sect.  7. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  33 

pearance  similar ;  this  is  the  main  question  on  which  \ 
I  would  insist^  The  bread,  which  I  formerly  eat,  nour- 
ished me ;  that  is,  a  body  of  such  sensible  qualities 
was,  at  that  time,  endued  with  such  secret  powers : 
but  does  it  follow,  that  other  bread  must  also  nourish 
me  at  another  time,  and  that  like  sensible  qualities 
must  always  be  attended  with  like  secret  powers?  The 
consequence  seems  nowise  necessary.  At  least,  it  must 
be  acknowledged  that  there  is  here  a  consequence 
drawn  by  the  mind ;  that  there  is  a  certain  step  taken; 
a  process  of  thought,  and  an  inference,  which  wants# 
to  be  explained.  \These  two  propositions  are  fa 
being  the  same,  I  have  found  that  siMi  an  objecti 
ways  been  attended  with  such  an  effect,  and  I  fores 
other  objects,  which  are,  in  appearance,  similar,  mi 
attended  with  sirni/ar^fiSSS^j^Sill  allow,  if  you  please, ' 
that  the  one  propoMion  majKListly  be  inferred  from 
the  other;  I  know,  wi  '  tl^t  it  always  is  inferred. 
But  if  you  insist  that  thf  iiiierence  is  made  by  a  chain] 
of  reasoning,  I  desire  you  to  produce  that  reasoning.  ; 
The  connexion  between  these  propositions  is  not  intu- 
itive. Tifiere  is  required  a  medium,  which  may  enable 
the  mind  to  draw  such  an  inference,  if  indeed  it  be 
drawn  by  reasoning  and  argumerit^jj^at  that  me- 
dium is,  I  must  confess,  passes  nj^^B^^Nihension ; 
and  it  is  incumbent  on  those  to  ]>r:<a^-iice-^t,  who  as- 
sert that  it  really  exists,  and  is  the  origin  of  all  our 
conclusions  concerning;;  .j^^H^BTfact. 

This  negativdfeirgiunent  must  co.italnly,  in  process 
of  time,  become  altoge^m^onvj^Rig,  if  many  pene- 
trating and  able  phllosop^^B^prturn  their  enquiries 
this  way  and  no  one  be  ever  able  to  discover  any  con- 
necting proposition  or  intermediate  step,  which  sup- 
le  understanding  in  this  conclusion.   But  as  the 


po^^l^e 


^ 


\ 


34  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

question  is  yet  new,  every  reader  may  not  trust  so  far 
to  his  own  penetration,  as  to  conclude,  because  an  ar- 
gument escapes  his  enquiry,  that  therefore  it  does  not 
really  exist.  For  this  reason  it  may  be  requisite  to 
venture  upon  a  more  difficult  task  ;  and  enumerating 
all  the  branches  of  human  knowledge,  endeavour  to 
•s,show  that  none  of  them  can  afford  such  an  argument. 
]  AH  reasonings  m_av  be  dUvj^ed_jnt^Jws.  Mnds, 
namely,  demonstrative  reasoning,  or  that  concerning 
relations  of  idear.,  and  moral  reasoning,  or  that  con- 
erning  matter  of  fact  and  existence,  r  That  there  are 
onstrative  arguments  in  the  case  seems  evident ; 
implies  r^contradiction  that  the  course  of  na- 
y  change,  and  that  an  object,  seemingly  like 
which  we  have  experienced,  may  be  attended 
with  different  or  contra|^B|^^  May  I  not  clearly 
and  distinctly  conceiv^^^^^^Biy,  falling  from  the 
clouds,  and  which,  in^^^^^Hlespects,  resembles 
snow,  has  yet  the  taste  ^M^Wr  feeling  of  fire  ?  Is 
there  any  more  intelligible  proposition  than  to  affirm, 
that  all  the  trees  will  flourish  in  December  and  Tanu- 
ary,  and  decay  in  May  and  June  ?  j  Now  whatever  is 
intelligible,  and  can  be  distinctly  conceived,  implies 
and  can  never  be  proved  false  by  any 
ent  or  abstract  reasoning  a  priori. 
re,  engaged  by  arguments  to  put 
trust  in  past  experience,  and  make  it  the  stamdard  of 
our  future  judgemen|j^H^|guments  must  be  proba- 
ble only,  or  such  aA^ga^^^M:er  ofgfact  and  real  exi 
istence,  accordin^B^  thf^^^Kon  above  mentioned. 
But  that  there  is  no  ar^uii^^^^this  kind,  must  appeat," 
if  our  explication  of  that  species  of  reasoning  be  ad- 
mitted as  solid  and  satisfactory^)  We  have  said  that 
all  arguments  concerning  existence  are  founded 


inteiiigiDie,  ana  can 
j       no  contradicti^^and  ( 
j      demonstry|^^^^^( 
jlf  we  im^^Bor( 


:d^g|K 


HUM  AM  UNDERSTANDING,  35 

relation  of  cause  and  effect ;  that  our  knowledge  of  that 
relation  is  derived  entirely  from  experience  -T^and  that 
all  our  experimental  conclusions  procee3"'^upon  the 
supposition  that  the  future  will  be  conformable  to  the 
past.  To  endeavour,  therefore,  the  proof  of  this  last 
supposition  by  probable  arguments,  or  arguments  re- 1 
garding  existence,  must  be  evidently  going  in  a  circle, 
and  taking  that  for  granted,  which  is  the  very  point  in 
question. 

In  reality,  all  arguments  from  experience  are  found- 
ed on  the  similarity  which  we  discover  among  natural 
objects,  and  by  which  we  are  induced  to  expect  effects 
similar  to  those  which  we  have  found  to  f ollow  ft6wa4-Vv  • 
such  objects.  And  though  none  but  a  fool  or  madman 
will  ever  pretend  to  dispute  the  authority  of  experi- 
ence,  or  to  reject  that  great  guide  of  human  life,  it 
may  surely  be  allowed,,^^>^losopher  to  have  so  much 
curiosity  at  least  as  to  examine  theJ£nnciple  of  human  11 
nature,  which  gives  this  mighty  authority  to  experience^jM 
and  makes  us  draw  advantage  from  that  similarity 
vidiich   nature   has   placed   among   different    objects. 
/From  causes  which  appear  si?nihir  we  expect  similar  \ 
effects.  7  This  is  the  sum  of  all  our  experimental  con-     I 
clusidns^/Now  it  seems  evident  that,  if  this  conclusion 
were  formed  by  reason,  it  would  be  aa.  perfect  at  first, 
and  upon  one  instance,  as  after  ever  so  long  a  course 
of  experience.   But  the  case  is  far  otherwise.   Nothing 
so  like  as  eggs;  yet  no  one,  on  account  of  this  appear- 
ing similarity,  expects  the'"^feS;rtL'^t,aste  and  relish  in  all 
of  them.     It  is  only  af ten^*  IprigiljCburse  of  uniform  ex- 
periments in  any  kind,  that  we  attain  a  firm  reliance 
and 'security  with  regard  to  a  particular  £vent.     Now 
where  is  that   process  of  reasoning  ^mch,  from  one 
instance,   draws  a  conclusion,   so  different  from  that 


36  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

which  it  infers  from  a  hundred  instances  that  are  no- 
wise different  from  that  single  one  ?  This  question  I 
propose  as  much  for  the  sake  of  information,  as  with 
an  intention  of  raising  difficulties.  I  cannot  find,  I 
cannot  imagine  any  su.ch  reasoning.  But  I  keep  my 
mind  still  open  to  instruction,  if  any  one  will  vouch- 
safe to  bestow  it  on  me. 

Should  it  be  said  that,  from  a  number  of  uniform 
experiments,  we  infer  a  connexion  between  the  sensi- 
ble qualities  and  the  secret  powers ;  this,  I  must  con- 
fess, seems  the  same  difficulty,  couched  in  different 
terms.  The  question  still  recurs,  on  what  process  of 
argument  this  inference  is  founded  ?  Where  is  the  me- 
dium, the  interposing  ideas,  which  join  propositions 
so  very  wide  of  each  other  ?  It  is  confessed  that  the 
colour,  consistence,  and  other  sensible  qualities  of 
bread  appear  not,  of  themselves,  to  have  any  connex- 
ion with  the  secret  powers  of  nourishment  and  support. 
For  otherwise  we  could  infer  these  secret  powers  from 
the  first  appearance  of  these  sensible  qualities,  without 
the  aid  of  experience ;  contrary  to  the  sentiment  of  all 
philosophers,  and  contrary  to  plain  matter  of  fact. 
Here,  then,  is  our  natural  state  of  ignorance  with  re- 
gard to  the  powers  and  influence  of  all  objects.  How 
is  this  remedied^iJ^  experience  ?  It  only  shows  us  a 
number  of  uniform  effects,  resulting  from  certain  ob- 
jjects,  and  teaches  us  that  those  particular  objects,  at 
that  particular  time,  were  endowed  with  such  powers 
and  forces.  When  a  new  object,  endowed  with  simi- 
lar sensible  qualities,  is  produced,  we  expect  similar 
powers  and  forces,  and  look  for  a  like  effect.  From  a 
body  of  like  colour  and  consistence  with  bread  we  ex- 
pect like  nourishment  and  support.  But  this  surely 
is  a  step  or  progress  of  the  mind,  which  wants  to  be 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  37 

explained.  When  a  man  says,  I  have  found ,  in  all  past  j 
instances f  such  sensible  qualities  conjoined  with  such  secret  i 
powers :  And  when  he  says,  Similar  sensible  qualities  j 
will  always  be  conjoined  with  similar  secret  powers ^  he  is 
not  guilty  of  a  tautology,  nor  are  these  propositions  in 
any  respect  the  same.  You  say  that  the  one  proposi- 
tion is  an  inference  from  the  other.  But  you  must  con- 
fess that  the  inference  is  not  intuitive ;  neither  is  it 
demonstrative  :  Of  what  nature  is  it,  then  ?  To  say  it 
is  experimental,  is  begging  the  question.  For  all  in- 
ferences from  experience  suppose,  as  their  foundation, 
that  the  future  will  resemble  the  past,  and  that  similar 
powers  will  be  conjoined  with  similar  sensible  quali- 
ties. If  there  be  any  suspicion  that  the  course  of  na- 
ture may  change,  and  that  the  past  may  be  no  rule  for 
the  future,  all  experience  becomes  useless,  and  can 
give  rise  to  no  inference  or  conclusion.  It  is  impossi- 
ble, therefore,  that  any  arguments  from  experience  can 
prove  this  resemblance  of  the  past  to  the  future;  since 
all  these  arguments  are  founded  on  the  supposition  of 
that  resemblance.  Let  the  course  of  things  be  allowed 
hitherto  ever  so  regular  ;  that  alone,  without  some  new 
argument  or  inference,  proves  not  that,  for  the  future, 
it  will  continue  so.  In  vain  do  you  pretend  to  have 
learned  the  nature  of  bodies  from  your  past  experience. 
Their  secret  nature,  and  consequently  all  their  effects 
and  influence,  may  change,  without  any  change  in  their 
sensible  qualities.  This  happens  sometimes,  and  with 
regard  to  some  objects  :  Why  may  it  happen  always,  ^__ 
and  with  regard  to  all  objects  ?  What  logic,  what 
process  of  argument  secures  you  against  this  supposi- 
tion ?  jMy  practice.  VOU  ^ay,  j-(^fntp<;  my  dnnhts.  Rnt  ^ 
you  mistakeJiie-ourportjai  my  questian^^s  an  agent,  \ 
I  am  quite  satisfied  in  the  point :  ^"^  n^  R  phf'^?°^r^'=^^>  | 


38  AKT  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

Jwho  has  some  share  of  curiosity,  I  will  not  say  scep- 
/ticism,  I  want  to  learn  the  foundation  of  this  inference. 
No  reading,  no  enquiry  has  yet  been  able  to  remove 
my  difficulty,   or  give  me  satisfaction  in  a  matter  of 
such  importance.     Can  I  do  better  than  propose  the 
difficulty  to  the  public,  even  though,  perhaps,   I  have 
small  hopes  of  obtaining  a  solution  ?     We  shall,  at 
least,  by  this  means,  be  sensible  of  our  ignorance,  if 
we  do  not  augment  our  knowledge. 
f^    I  must  confess  that  a  man  is  guilty  of  unpardonable 
I  arrogance  who  concludes,  because  an  argument  has 
\escaped  his  own  investigation,  that  therefore  it  does 
[not  really  exist.     1  must  also  confess  that,  though  all 
the  learned,  for  several  ages,  should  have  employed 
themselves  in  fruitless  search  upon  any  subject,  it  may 
still,  perhaps,  be  rash  to  conclude  positively  that  the 
subject  must, therefore,  pass  all  human  comprehension. 
Even  though  we  examine  all  the  sources  of  our  knowl- 
edge, and  conclude  them  unfit  for  such  a  subject,  there 
may  still  remain  a  suspicion,  that  the  enumeration  is 
not  complete,  or  the  examination  not  accurate.     But 
with  regard  to  the  present  subject,  there  are  some  con- 
siderations which  seem  to  remove  all  this  accusation 
of  arrogance  or  suspicion  of  mistake. 

It  is  certain  that  the  most  ignorant  and  stupid 
peasants — nay  infants,  nay  even  brute  beasts — improve 
by  experience,  and  learn  the  qualities  of  natural  ob- 
jects, by  observing  the  effects  which  result  from  them. 
When  a  child  has  felt  the  sensation  of  pain  from  touch- 
ing the  flame  of  a  candle,  he  will  be  careful  not  to  put 
his  hand  near  any  candle ;  but  will  expect  a  similar 
effect  from  a  cause  which  is  similar  in  its  sensible  qual- 
ities and  appearance.  If  you  assert,  therefore,  that 
the  understanding  of  the  child  is  led  into  this  conclu- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING  39 

sion  by  any  process  of  argument  or  ratiocination,  I  may 
justly  require  you  to  produce  that  argument ;  nor  have 
you  any  pretense  to  refuse  so  equitable  a  demand.  You 
cannot  say  that  the  argument  is  abtruse,  and  may  pos- 
sibly escape  your  enquiry ;  since  you  confess  that  it  is 
obvious  to  the  capacity  of  a  mere  infant.  If  you  hesi- 
tate, therefore,  a  moment,  or  if,  after  reflection,  you  pro- 
duce any  intricate  or  profound  argument,  you,  in  a  man- 
ner, give  up  the  question,  and  confess  that  it  is  not 
reasoning  which  engages  us  to  suppose  the  past  re- 
sembling the  future,  and  to  expect  similar  effects  from 
causes  which  are,  to  appearance,  similar.  This  is  the 
proposition  which  I  intended  to  enforce  in  the  present 
section.  If  I  be  right,  I  pretend  not  to  have  made  any 
mighty  discovery.  And  if  I  be  wrong,  I  must  acknowl- 
edge myself  to  be  indeed  a  very  backward  scholar ; 
since  I  cannot  now  discover  an  argument  which,  it 
seems,  was  perfectly  familiar  to  me  long  before  I  was 
out  of  my  cradle. 


SECTION  V. 

SCEPTICAL  SOLuf  ION  OF  THESE  DOUBTS. 

Part  I. 

THE  passion  for  philosophy,  like  that  for  religion, 
seems  liable  to  this  inconvenience,  that,  though  it 
aims  at  the  correction  of  our  manners,  and  extirpation 
of  our  vices,  it  may  only  serve,  by  imprudent  manage- 
ment, to  foster  a  predominant  inclination,  and  push 
the  mind,  with  more  determined  resolution,  towards 
that  side  which  already  draws  too  much,  by  the  bias 
and  propensity  of  the  natural  temper.  It  is  certain 
that,  while  we  aspire  to  the  magnanimous  firmness  of 
the  philosophic  sage,  and  endeavour  to  confine  our 
pleasures  altogether- within  our  own  minds,  we  may, 
at  last,  render  our  philosophy  like  that  of  Epictetus, 
and  other  Stoics,  only  a  more  refined  system  of  selfish- 
ness, and  reason  ourselves  out  of  all  virtue  as  well  as 
social  enjoyment.  While  we  study  with  attention  the 
vanity  of  human  life,  and  turn  all  our  thoughts  towards 
the  empty  and  transitory  nature  of  riches  and  honours, 
we  are,  perhaps,  all  the  while  flattering  our  natural 
indolence,  which,  hating  the  bustle  of  the  world,  and 
drudgery  of  business,  seeks  a  pretence  of  reason  to 
give  itself  a  full  and  uncontrolled  indulgence.  There  , 
is,  however,  one  species  of  philosophy  which  seems 
little  liable  to  this  inconvenience,  and  that  because  it 
•strikes  in  with  no  disorderly  passion  of  the  human 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING. 


41 


mind,  nor  can  mingle  itself  with  any  natural  affection 
or  propensity;  and  that  is  the  Academic  or  Sceptical 
philosophy.  The  academics  always  talk  of  doubt  and 
suspense  of  judgement,  of  danger  in  hasty  determina- 
tions, of  confining  to  very  narrow  bounds  the  enquiries 
of  the  understanding,  and  of  renouncing  all  specula- 
tions which  lie  not  within  the  limits  of  common  life 
and  practice.  SNothing,  therefore,  can  be  more  con- 
trary than  such  a  philosophy  to  the  supine  indolence 
of  the  mind,  its  rash  arrogance,  its  lofty  pretensions, 
and  its  superstitious  credulity .^Every  passion  is  mor- 
tified by  it,  except  the  love  of  ifruth ;  and  that  passion 
never  is,  nor  can  be,  carried  to  too  high  a  degree.  It 
is  surprising,  therefore,  that  this  philosophy,  which, 
in  almost  every  instance,  must  be  harmless  and  inno- 
cent, should  be  the  subject  of  so  much  groundless  re- 
proach and  obloquy.  But,  perhaps,  the  very  circum- 
stance which  renders  it  so  innocent  is  what  chiefly 
exposes  it  to  the  public  hatred  and  resentment.  By 
flattering  no  irregular  passion,  it  gains  few  partizans: 
By  opposing  so  many  vices  and  follies,  it  raises  to 
itself  abundance  of  enemies,  who  stigmatize  it  as 
libertine,  profane,  and  irreligious. 

Nor  need  we  fear  that  this  philosophy,  while  it  en- 
deavours to  limit  our  enquiries  to  common  life,  should 
ever  undermine  the  reasonings  of  common  life,  and 
carry  its  doubts  so  far  as  to  destroy  all  action,  as  well 
as  speculation,  feature  will  always  maintain  her  rights, 
and  prevail  in  the  end  over  any  abstract  reasoning 
whatsoeverT^Though  we  should  conclude,  for  instanceT^ 
as  in  the  foregoing  section,  that,  in  all  reasonings  from 
experience,  there  is  a  step  taken  by  the  mind  which  is 
not  supported  by  any  argument  or  process  of  the  un- 
derstanding ;  there  is  no  danger  that  these  reasonings, 


42  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

on  which  almost  all  knowledge  depends,  will  ever  be 
affected  by  such  a  discovery.     If  the  mind  be  not  en- 
gaged by  argument  to  make  this  step,  it  must  be  in- 
/duced  by  some  other  principle  of  equal  weight  and 
j  /  authority ;  and  that  principle  will  preserve  its  influence 
\  j  as  long  as  human  nature  remains  the  same.     What 
/  I  that  principle  is  may  well  be  worth  the  pains  of  enquiry. 
0  Suppose  a  person,  though  endowed  with  the  strong- 

est faculties  of  reason  and  reflection,  to  be  brought  on 
a  sudden  into  this  world ;  he  would,  indeed,  immedi- 
ately observe  a  continual  succession  of  objects,  and 
one  event  following  another  ;  but  he  would  not  be  able 
to  discover  anything  farther.  He  would  not,  at  first, 
by  any  reasoning,  be  able  to  reach  the  idea  of  cause 
and  effect ;  since  the  particular  powers,  by  which  all 
natural  operations  are  performed,  never  appear  to  the 
senses;  nor  is  it  reasonable  to  conclude,  merely  be- 
cause one  event,  in  one  instance,  precedes  another, 
that  therefore  the  one  is  the  cause,  the  other  the  effect. 
Their  conjunction  may  be  arbitrary  and  casual.  There 
may  be  no  reason  to  infer  the  existence  of  one  from 
the  appearance  of  the  other.  And  in  a  word,  such  a 
person,  without  more  experience,  could  never  employ 
his  conjecture  or  reasoning  concerning  any  matter  of 
fact,  or  be  assured  of  anything  beyond  what  was  im- 
mediately present  to  his  memory  and  senses. 

Suppose,  again,  that  he  has  acquired  more  experi- 
ence, and  has  lived  so  long  in  the  world  as  to  have  ob- 
served familiar  objects  or  events  to  be  constantly  con- 
joined together;  what  is  the  consequence  of  this  ex- 
perience ?  He  immediately  infers  the  existence  of  one 
object  from  the  appearance  of  the  other.  Yet  he  has 
not,  by  all  his  experience,  acquired  any  idea  or  knowl- 
edge of  the  secret  power  by  which  the  one  object  pro- 


l\ 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  43 

duces  the  other ;  nor  is  it,  by  any  process  of  reasoning, 
he  is  engaged  to  draw  this  inference.  But  still  he  finds 
himself  determined  to  draw  it :  And  though  he  should 
be  convinced  that  his  understanding  has  no  part  in 
the  operation,  he  would  nevertheless  continue  in  the 
same  course  of  thinking.  There  is  some  other  princi- 
ple which  determines  him  to  form  such  a  conclusion. 

This  principle  is  Custom  or  Habit.     For  wherever  | 
the  repetition  of  any  particular  act  or  operation  pro-i{ 
duces  a  propensity  to  renew  the  same  act  or  operation,  \; 
without  being  impelled  by  any  reasoning  or  process  of 
the  understanding,  we  always  say,  that  this  propensity 
is  the  effect  of  Custo?ft.     By  employing  that  word,  we- 
pretend  not  to  have  given  the  ultimate  reason  of  such 
a  propensity.  We  only  point  out^a^rinciple  of  human 
nature,  which  is  universally  acknowledged,  and  which 
is  well  known  by  its  effects/  Perhaps  we  can  push  our 
enquiries  no  farther,  or  pretend  to  give  the  cause  of  /^•^'^.. 
this  cause ;  but  must  rest  contented  with  it  as  the  ul-   7    ^-a^ 
timate  principle,  which  we  can  assign,  of  all  our  con-   ^  ^^ 
elusions  from  experience.     It  is  sufficient  satisfaction,      ^''^ 
that  we  can  go  so  far,  without  repining  at  the  narrow-        ^^< 
ness  of  our  faculties  because  they  will  carry  us  no  far. 
Xhef.     And  it  is  certain  we  here  advance  a  very  intel- 
ligible proposition  at  least,  if  not  a  true  one,  when  we 
assert  that,  after  the  constant  conjunction  of  two  ob- 
jects— heat  and  flame,  for  instance,  weight  and  solidity 
—  we  are  determmed  by_custom  alone  to  expect  the 
oiie^hs^cath^^  This  hypothesis 

seems  even  the  only  one  which  explains  the  difficulty," 
why  we  draw,  from  a  thousand  instances,  an  inference 
which  we  are  not  able  to  draw  from  one  instance,  thixi 
is,  in  no  respect,  different  from  them.  Reason  is  incap- 
able of  any  such  variation.     The  conclusions  which  it 


.V-- 


44  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

draws  from  considering  one  circle  are  the  same  which 

it  would  form   upon   surveying  all  the  circles  in  the 

universe.     But  no  man,  having  seen  only  one  body 

move  after  being  impelled  by  another,  could  infer  that 

,  every  other  body  will  move  after  a  like  impulse.   '■-  Alt 

i  inferences  from  experience,  therefore,  are  effects  of 

li  custom,  not  of  reasoning.  M  y^ 

'<  1  Nothing  is  more  useful  than  for  writers,  even,  on  morale  political,  or 

physical  subjects,  to  distinguish  between  reason  and  experience,  and  to  sup- 
pose, that  these  species  of  argumentation  are  entirely  diiferent  from  each 
other.  The  former  are  taken  for  the  mere  result  of  our  intellectual  faculties, 
which,  by  considering  A /r/^i^/ the  nature  of  things,  and  examining  the  effects, 
that  must  follow  from  their  operation,  establish  particular  principles  of  sci- 
ence ai:d  philosophy.  The  latter  are  supposed  to  be  derived  entirely  froai 
sense  and  observation,  by  which  we  learn  what  has  actually  resulted  from  the 
operation  of  particular  objects,  and  are  thence  able  to  infer,  what  will,  f  i)r 
thefuture,  result  from  them.  Thus,  for  instance,  the  limitations  and  restraints 
of  civil  government,  and  a  legal  constitution,  may  be  defended,  either  from 
reason,  which  reflecting  on  the  great  frailty  and  corruption  of  human  nature, 
teaches,  that  no  man  can  safely  be  trusted  with  unlimited  authority;  or  from 
experience  a.nd  history,  which  inform  us  of  the  enormous  abuses,  that  ambi- 

/  tion,  in  every  age  and  country,  has  been  found  to  make  of  so  imprudent  a 

/    confidence. 

'  The  same  distinction  between  reason  and  experience  is  maintained  in  all 

our  deliberations  concerning  the  conduct  of  life ;  while  the  experienced 
statesman,  general,  physician,  or  merchant  is  trusted  and  followed  ;  and  the 
unpractised  novice,  with  whatever  natural  talents  endowed,  neglected  and 
despised.  Though  it  be  allowed,  that  reason  may  form  very  plausible 
conjectures  with  regard  to  the  consequences  of  such  a  particular  conduct  in 
such  particular  circumstances ;  it  is  still  supposed  imperfect,  without  the 
assistance  of  experience,  which  is  alone  able  to  give  stability  and  certainty 
to  the  maxims,  derived  from  study  and  reflection. 

But  notwithstanding  that  this  distinction  be  thus  universally  received, 
both  in  the  active  speculative  scenes  of  life,  I  shall  not  scruple  to  pronounce, 
that  it  is,  at  bottom,  erroneous,  at  least,  superficial 

If  we  examine  those  arguments,  which,  in  any  of  the  sciences  above  men- 
tioned, are  supposed  to  be  the  mere  effects  of  reasoning  and  reflection,  they 
will  be  found  to  terminate,  at  last,  in  some  general  principle  or  conclusion, 
for  which  we  can  assign  no  reason  but  observation  and  experience.  The  only 
difference  between  them  and  those  maxims,  which  are  vulgarly  esteemed  the 
result  of  pure  experience,  is,  that  the  former  cannot  be  established  without 
some  process  of  thought,  and  some  reflection  on  what  we  have  observed,  in 
order  to  distinguish  its  circumstances,  and  trace  its  consequences  :  Whereas 
in  the  latter,  the  experienced  event  is  exactly  and  fully  familiar  to  that  which 
we  infer  as  the  result  of  any  particular  situation.  The  history  of  a  Tiberius 
or  a  Nero  makes  us  dread  a  like  tyranny,  were  our  monarchs  freed  from  the 
restraints  of  laws  and  senates  .•    But  the  observation  of  any  fraud  or  cruelty 


HUMAN-  UNDERSTANDING,  45 

J^ustomj^then^Js  the  great  guide  of  human  life.  It 
is  that  principle  alone  which  renders  our  experience 
useful  to  us,  and  makes  us  expect,  for  the  future,  a 
similar  train  of  events  with  those  which  have  appeared 
in  the  past.  Without  the  influence  of  custom,  we 
should  be  entirely  ignorant  of  every  matter  of  fact  be- 
yond what  is  immediately  present  to  the  memory  and 
senses.  We  should  never  know  how  to  adjust  means 
to  ends,  or  to  employ  our  natural  powers  in  the  pro- 
duction of  any  effect.  There  would  be  an  end  at  once 
of  all  action,  as  well  as  of  the  chief  part  of  speculation. 

But  here  it  may  be  proper  to  remark,  that  though 
our  conclusions  from  experience  carry  us  beyond  our 
memory  and  senses,  and  assure  us  of  matters  of  fact 
which  happened  in  the  most  distant  places  and  most 
remote  ages,  yet  some  fact  must  always  be  present  to 
the  senses  or  memory,  from  which  we  may  first  pro- 
ceed in  drawing  these  conclusions.  A  man,  who  should 
find  in  a  desert  country  the  remains  of  pompous  build- 
ings, would  conclude  that  the  country  had,  in  ancient 

in  private  life  is  sufficient,  with  tlie  aid  of  a  little  thought,  to  give  us  the  same 
apprehension;  while  it  serves  as  an  instance  of  the  general  corruption  of 
human  nature,  and  shows  us  the  danger  which  we  must  incur  by  reposing  an 
entire  confidence  in  mankind.  In  both  cases,  it  is  experience  which  is  ulti- 
mately the  foundation  of  our  inference  and  conclusion. 

There  is  no  man  so  young  and  unexperienced,  as  not  to  have  formed,  from 
observation,  many  general  and  just  maxims  concerning  human  affairs  and  the 
conduct  of  life ;  but  it  must  be  confessed,  that,  when  a  man  comes  to  put 
these  in  practice,  he  will  be  extremely  liable  to  error,  till  time  and  farther 
experience  both  enlarge  these  maxims,  and  teach  him  their  proper  use  and 
application.  In  every  situation  or  incident,  there  are  many  particular  and 
seemingly  minute  circumstances,  which  the  man  of  greatest  talent  is,  at  first, 
apt  to  overlook,  though  on  them  the  justness  of  his  conclusions,  and  conse- 
quently the  prudence  of  his  conduct,  entirely  depend.  Not  to  mention,  that, 
to  a  young  beginner,  the  general  observations  and  maxims  occur  not  always 
on  the  proper  occasions,  nor  can  be  immediately  applied  with  due  calmness 
and  distinction.  The  truth  is,  an  unexperienced  reasoner  could  be  no  reat 
soner  at  all,  were  he  absolutely  unexperienced;  and  when  we  assign  tha 
character  to  any  one,  we  mean  it  only  in  a  comparative  sense,  and  suppose 
him  possessed  of  experience,  in  a  smaller  and  more  imperfect  degree. 


46  AN"  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

times,  been  cultivated  by  civilized  inhabitants;  but 
did  nothing  of  this  nature  occur  to  him,  he  could  never 
form  such  an  inference.  We  learn  the  events  of  former 
ages  from  history ;  but  then  w^e  must  peruse  the  vol- 
umes in  which  this  instruction  is  contained,  and  thence 
carry  up  our  inferences  from  one  testimony  to  another, 
till  we  arrive  at  the  eyewitnesses  and  spectators  of 
these  distant  events.  In  a  word,  if  we  proceed  not 
upon  some  fact,  present  to  the  memory  or  senses,  our 
reasonings  would  be  merely  hypothetical ;  and  how- 
ever the  particular  links  might  be  connected  with  each 
other,  the  whole  chain  of  inferences  would  have  noth- 
ing to  support  it,  nor  could  we  ever,  by  its  means,  ar- 
rive at  the  knowledge  of  any  real  existence.  If  I  ask 
why  you  believe  any  particular  matter  of  fact,  which 
you  relate,  you  must  tell  me  some  reason ;  and  this 
reason  will  be  some  other  fact,  connected  with  it. 
But  as  you  cannot  proceed  after  this  manner,  in  infini- 
tum, you  must  at  last  terminate  in  some  fact,  which  is 
present  to  your  memory  or  senses ;  or  must  allow  that 
your  belief  is  entirely  without  foundation. 

What,  then,  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter  ? 
A  simple  one ;  though,  it  must  be  confessed,  pretty 
remote  from  the  common  theories  of  philosophy,  f  All 
belief  of  matter  of  fact  or  real  existence  is  derived 
merely  from  some  object,  present  to  the  memory  or 
senses,  and  a  customary  conjunction  between  that  and 
some  other  object  J  Or  in  other  words;  having  found 
in  many  instances,  that  any  two  kinds  of  objects — 
flame  and  heat,  snow  and  cold — have  always  been  con- 
joined together ;  if  flame  or  snow  be  presented  anew 
to  the  senses,  the  mind  is  carried  by  custom  to  expect 
heat  or  cold,  and  to  believe  that  such  a  quality  does 
exist,  and  will  discover  itself  upon  a  nearer  approach. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  47 

This  belief  is  the  necessary  result  of  placing  the  mind 
in  such  circumstances.  It  is  an  operation  of  the  soul, 
when  we  are  so  situated,  as  unavoidable  as  to  feel  the 
passion  of  love,  when  we  receive  benefits ;  or  hatred,> 
when  we  meet  with  injuries.  All  these  operations  areVTl '  *2C* 
a  species  of  natural  instincts,  which  no  reasoning  or  Jy  **^ !£ -^ 
process  of  the  thoughtand  understanding  is  able  either 
to  produce  or  to  prevent.  "" 

At  this  point,  it  would  be  very  allowable  for  us  to 
stop  our  philosophical  researches.  In  most  questions 
we  can  never  make  a  single  step  farther;  and  in  all 
questions  we  must  terminate  here  at  last,  after  our  most 
restless  and  curious  enquiries.  But  still  our  curiosity 
will  be  pardonable,  perhaps  commendable,  if  it  carry 
us  on  to  still  farther  researches,  and  make  us  examine 
more  accurately  the  nature  of  this  belief,  and  of  the 
customary  conjunction,  whence  it  is  derived.  /  By  this 
means  we  may  meet  with  some  explications  and  anal- 
ogies that  will  give  satisfaction ;  at  lea.  t  to  such  as 
love  the  abstract  sciences,  and  can  be  entertained  with 
speculations,  which,  however  accurate,  may  still  retain 
a  degree  of  doubt  and  uncertainty.  As  to  readers  of 
a  different  taste ;  the  remaining  part  of  this  section  is 
not  calculated  for  them,  and  the  following  enquiries 
may  well  be  understood,  though  it  be  neglected. 

Part  II. 

Nothing  is  more  free  than  the  imagination  of  man ; 
and  though  it  cannot  exceed  that  original  stock  of 
ideas  furnished  by  the  internal  and  external  senses,  it 
has  unlimited  power  of  mixing,  compounding,  separ- 
ating, and  dividing  these  ideas,  in  all  the  varieties  of 
fiction  and  vision.  It  can  feign  a  train  of  events,  with 
all  the  appearance  of  reality,  ascribe  to  them  a  partic- 


I 


48  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

ular  time  and  place,  conceive  them  as  existent,  and 
paint  them  out  to  itself  with  every  circumstance,  that 
belongs  to  any  historical  fact,  which  it  believes  with 
the  greatest  certainty.  '  Wherein,  therefore,  consists 
the  difference  between  such  a  fiction  and  belief?;  It 
lies  not  merely  in  any  peculiar  idea,  which  is  annexed 
to  such  a  conception  as  commands  our  assent,  and 
which  is  wanting  to  every  known  fiction.  For  as  the 
mind  has  authority  over  all  its  ideas,  it  could  volun- 
tarily annex  this  particular  idea  to  any  fiction,  and  con- 
sequently be  able  to  believe  whatever  it  pleases ;  con- 
trary to  what  we  find  by  daily  experience.  We  can,  in 
our  conception,  join  the  head  of  a  man  to  the  body  of 
a  horse  ;  but  it  is  not  in  our  power  to  believe  that  such 
an  animal  has  ever  really  existed. 

It  follows,  therefore,  that  (the  difference  between 
action  and  belief'  lies  in  some  sentiment  or  feeling, 
which  is  annexed  to  the  latter,  not  to  the  former,  and 
which  depends  not  on  the  will,  nor  can  be  commanded 
at  pleasure.  It  must  be  excited  by  nature,  like  all 
other  sentiments;  and  must  arise  from  the  particular 
situation,  in  which  the  mind  is  placed  at  any  particu- 
lar juncture.\\ Whenever  any  object  is  presented  to  the 
memory  or  senses,  it  immediately,  by  the  force  of  cus- 
tom, carries  the  imagination  to  conceive  that  object, 
which  is  usually  conjoined  to  it ;  and  this  conception 
is  attended  with  a  feeling  or  sentiment,  different  from 
the  loose  reveries  of  the  fancy.  In  this  consists  the 
whole  nature  of  belief.  For  as  there  is  no  matter  of 
fact  which  we  believe  so  firmly  that  we  cannot  con- 
ceive the  contrary,  there  would  be  no  difference  be- 
tween the  conception  assented  to  and  that  which  is 
rejected,  were  it  not  for  some  senrtment  which  dis- 
tinguishes the  one  from  the  other.     If  I  see  a  billiard- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  49 

ball  moving  towards  another,  on  a  smooth  table,  I  can 
easily  conceive  it  to  stop  upon  contact.  This  concep- 
tion implies  no  contradiction ;  but  still  it  feels  very 
differently  from  that  conception  by  which  I  represent 
to  myself  the  impulse  and  the  communication  of  mo- 
tion from  one  ball  to  another. 

Were  we  to  attempt  a  definiiion  of  this  sentiment, 
we  should,  perhaps,  find  it  a  very  difficult,  if  not  an 
impossible  task ;  in  the  same  manner  as  if  we  should 
endeavour  to  define  the  feeling  of  cold  or  passion  of 
anger,  to  a  creature  who  never  had  any  experience  of 
these  sentiments.  Belief  is  the  true  and  proper  nameZL  tf* 
of  this  feeling;  and  no  one  is  ever  at  a  loss  to  know  1  ^ 
the-meaning  of  that  term  ;  because  every  man  is  every  j  ^ 

moment  conscious  of  the  sentiment  represented  by  it.  J  rs  •  U 
It  may  not,  however,  be  improper  to  attempt  a  descrip- 
tion of  this  sentiment ;  in  hopes  we  may,  by  that  means, 
arrive  at  some  analogies*,  which  may  afford  a  more 
perfect  explication  of  it.  I  say,  then,  that  belief  is 
nothing  but  a  more  vivid,  lively,  forcible,  firm,  steady 
conception  of  an  object,  than  what  the  imagination  | 
alone  is  ever  able  to  attain.  This  variety  of  terms,' 
which  may  seem  so  unphilosophical,  is  intended  only 
to  express  that  act  of  the  mind,  which  renders  realities, 
or  what  Is  taken  for  such,  more  present  to  us  than  fic" 
tions,  causes  them  to  weigh  more  in  the  thought,  and 
gives  them  a  superior  influence  on  the  passions  and 
imagination.  Provided  we  agree  about  the  thing,  it  is 
needless  to  dispute  about  the  terms.  The  Imagination 
has  the  command  over  all  its  ideas,  and  can  join  and 
mix  and  vary  them,  in  all  the  ways  possible.  It  may 
concerve  fictitious  objects  with  all  the  circumstances 
of  place  and  time.  It  may  set  them,  in  a  manner,  be- 
fore our  eyes,  in  their  true  colours,  just  as  they  might 


50  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

have  existed.  But  as  it  is  impossible  that  this  faculty 
of  imagination  can  ever,  of  itself,  reach  belief,  it  is 
evident  that  belief  consists  not  in  the  peculiar  nature 
or  order  of  ideas,  but  in  the  manner  of  their  concep- 
tion, and  in  \kiQ\t  feeling  to  the  mind.  I  confess,  that 
it  is  impossible  perfectly  to  explain  this  feeling  or 
manner  of  conception.  We  may  make  use  of  words 
which  express  something  near  it.  But  its  true  and 
proper  name,  as  we  observed  before,  is  belief  \  which 
is  a  term  that  every  one  sufficiently  understands  in 
common  life,  ^nd  in  philosophy,  we  can  go  no  farther 
I  than  assert,  that  belief  is  something  felt  by  the  mind, 
J  \  which  distinguishes  the  ideas  of  the  judgement  from  the 
fictions  of  the  imagination.  It  gives  them  more  weight 
and  influence  ;  makes  them  appear  of  greater  impor- 
tance ;  enforces  them  in  the  mind ;  and  renders  them 
the  governing  principle  of  our  actions.  I  hear  at  pres- 
ent, for  instance,  a  person's  voice,  with  whom  I  am 
acquainted ;  and  the  sound  come^  as  from  the  next 
room.  This  impression  of  my  senses  immediately  con- 
veys my  thought  to  the  person,  together  with  all  the 
surrounding  objects.  I  paint  them  out  to  myself  as 
existing  at  present,  with  the  same  qualities  and  rela- 
tions, of  which  I  formerly  knew  them  possessed. 
These  ideas  take  faster  hold  of  my  mind  than  ideas  of 
an  enchanted  castle.  They  are  very  different  to  the 
feeling,  and  have  a  much  greater  influence  of  every 
kind,  either  to  give  pleasure  or  pain,  joy  or  sorrow. 
Let  us,  then,  take  in  the  whole  compass  of  this 
doctrine,  and  allow,  that  the  sentiment  of  belief  is 
nothing  but  a  conception  more  intense  and  steady  than 
what  attends  the  mere  fictions  of  the  imagination,  an(f 
that  this  manner  of  conception  arises  from  a  customary 
conjunction  of  the  object  with  something  present  to 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  51 

the  memory  or  senses :  I  believe  that  it  will  not  be 
difficult,  upon  these  suppositions,  to  find  other  opera- 
tions of  the  mind  analogous  to  it,  and  to  trace  up  these 
phenomena  to  principles  still  more  general. 

We  have  already  observed  that  nature  has  estab- 
lished connexions  among  particular  ideas^  and  that  no 
sooner  one  idea  occurs  to  our  thoughts  than  it  intro- 
duces its  correlative,  and  carries  our  attention  towards 
it,  by  a  gentle  and  insensible  movement.  These  prin- 
ciples of  connexion  or  association  we  have  reduced  to 
three,  namely,  Resemblance,  Contiguity  and  Causation; 
which  are  the  only  bonds  that  unite  our  thoughts  to- 
gether, and  beget  that  regular  train  of  reflection  or 
discourse,  which,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  takes 
place  among  mankind.  Now  here  arises  a  question, 
on  which  the  solution  of  the  present  difficulty  will  de- 
pend. Does  it  happen,  in  all  these  relations,  that, 
when  one  of  the  objects  is  presented  to  the  senses  or 
memory,  the  mind  is  not  only  carried  to  the  concep- 
tion of  the  correlative,  but  reaches  a  steadier  and 
stronger  conception  of  it  than  what  otherwise  it  would 
have  been  able  to  attain  ?  This  seems  to  be  the  case 
with  that  belief  which  arises  from  the  relation  of  cause 
and  effect.  And  if  the  case  be  the  same  with  the  other 
relations  or  principles  of  associations,  this  may  be  es- 
tablished as  a  general  law,  which  takes  place  in  all  the 
operations  of  the  mind. 

We  may,  therefore,  observe,  as  the  first  experiment 
to  our  present  purpose,  that,  upon  the  appearance  of 
the  picture  of  an  absent  friend,  our  idea  of  him  is  evi- 
dently evAvfenedL  hyi^Q  resemblance,  and  that  every 
passion,  which  that  idea  occasions,  whether  of  joy  or 
sorrow,  acquires  new  force  and  vigour.  In  producing 
this  effect,  there  concur  both  a  relation  and  a  present 


52  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

impression.  Where  the  picture  bears  him  no  resem- 
blance, at  least  was  not  intended  for  him,  it  never  so 
much  as  conveys  our  thought  to  him  :  And  where  it 
*  is  absent,  as  well  as  the  person,  though  the  mind  may 
pass  from  the  thought  of  the  one  to  that  of  the  other, 
it  feels  its  idea  to  be  rather  weakened  than  enlivened 
by  that  transition.  We  take  a  pleasure  in  viewing  the 
picture  of  a  friend,  when  it  is  set  before  us ;  but  when 
it  is  removed,  rather  choose  to  consider  him  directly 
than  by  reflection  in  an  image,  which  is  equally  distant 
and  obscure, 
x-^  The  ceremonies  of  the  Roman  Catholic  religion 
may  be  considered  as  instances  of  the  same  nature. 
The  devotees  of  that  superstition  usually  plead  in  ex- 
cuse for  the  mummeries,  with  which  they  were  up- 
braided, that  they  feel  the  good  effect  of  those  exter- 
nal motions,  and  postures,  and  actions,  in  enlivening 
their  devotion  and  quickening  their  fervour,  which 
otherwise  would  decay,  if  directed  entirely  to  distant 
and  immaterial  objects.  We  shadow  out  the  objects 
of  our  faith,  say  they,  in  sensible  types  and  images, 
and  render  them  more  present  to  us  by  the  immediate 
presence  of  these  types,  than  it  is'  possible  for  us  to  do 
merely  by  an  intellectual  view  and  contemplation. 
Sensible  objects  have  always  a  greater  influence  on  the 
fancy  than  any  other;  and  this  influence  they  readily 
convey  to  those  ideas  to  which  they  are  related,  and 
which  they  resemble.  I  shall  only  infer  from  these 
practices,  and  this  reasoning,  that  the  effect  of  resem- 
blance in  enlivening  the  ideas  is  very  common  ;  and 
as  in  every  case  a  resemblance  and  a  present  impres- 
sion must  concur,  we  are  abundantly  supplied  with 
experiments  to  prove  the  realit}^  of  the  foregoing  prin- 
ciple. 


HUMAN-  UNDERSTANDING. 


53 


We  may  add  force  to  these  experiments  by  others 
of  a  different  kind,  in  considering  the  effects  of  contig- 
uity as  well  as  of  resemblance.  It  is  certain  that  dis- 
tance diminishes  the  force  of  every  idea,  and  that, 
upon  our  approach  to  any  object ;  though  it  does  not 
discover  itself  to  our  senses  ;  it  operates  upon  the  mind 
with  an  influence,  which  imitates  an  immediate  im- 
pression. The  thinking  on  any  object  readily  trans- 
ports the  mind  to  what  is  contiguous ;  but  it  is  only 
the  actual  presence  of  an  object,  that  transports  it  with 
a  superior  vivacity.  When  I  am  a  few  miles  from  i 
home,  whatever  relates  to  it  touches  me  more  nearly 
than  when  I  am  two  hundred  leagues  distant ;  though 
even  at  that  distance  the  reflecting  on  any  thing  in  the 
neighbourhood  of  my  friends  or  family  naturally  pro- 
duces an  idea  of  them.  But  as  in  this  latter  case,  both 
the  objects  of  the  mind  are  ideas;  notwithstanding 
there  is  an  easy  transition  between  them ;  that  transi- 
tion alone  is  not  able  to  give  a  superior  vivacity  to  any 
of  the  ideas,  for  want  of  some  immediate  impression.^ 

No  one  can  doubt  but  causation  has  the  same  in- 
fluence as  the  other  two  relations  of  resemblance  and 
contiguity.  Superstitious  people  are  fond  of  the  rel- 
iques  of  saints  and  holy  men,  for  the  same  reason,  that 
they  seek  after  types  or  images,   in  order  to  enliven 

1  '  Naturane  nobis,  inquit,  datum  dicam,  an  errore  quodam,  ut,  cum  ea 
loca  videamus,  in  quibus  memoria  dignos  viros  acceperimus  multum  esse 
versatos,  magis  moveamur,  quam  siquando  eorum  ipsorum  aut  facta  audiamus 
aut  scriptum  aliquod  legamus  ?  Velut  ego  nunc  moveor.  Venit  enim  mihi 
Plato  in  mentem,  quem  accepimus  primum  hie  disputare  solitum:  cuius  etiam 
illi  hortuH  propinqui  non  memoriam  solum  mihi  afferunt,  sed  ipsum  videntur 
in  conspectu  meo  hie  ponere.  Hie  Speusippus,  hie  Xenocrates,  hie  eius 
auditor  Polemo  ;  cuius  ipsa  ilia  sessio  fuit,  quam  videmus.  Equidem  etiam 
curiam  nostram,  Hostiliam  dico,  non  hane  novam,  quae  mihi  minor  esse 
videtur  postquam  est  maior,  solebam  intuens,  Scipionem,  Catonem,  Laeliuml 
nostrum  vero  in  primis  avum  cogitare.  Tanta  vis  admonitionis  est  in  locis; 
ut  non  sine  causa  ex  his  memoriae  deducta  sit  disciplina.' 

Cicero  de  Finibus.    Lib.  v. 


54  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

their  devotion,  and  give  them  a  more  intimate  and 
strong  conception  of  those  exemplary  lives,  which  they 
desire  to  imitate.  Now  it  is  evident,  that  one  of  the 
best  reliques,  which  a  devotee  could  procure,  would 
be  the  handywork  of  a  saint ;  and  if  his  cloaths  and 
furniture  are  ever  to  be  considered  in  this  light,  it  is 
because  they  were  once  at  his  disposal,  and  were  moved 
and  affected  by  him ;  in  which  respect  they  are  to  be 
considered  as  imperfect  effects,  and  as  connected  with 
him  by  a  shorter  chain  of  consequences  than  any  of 
those,  by  which  we  learn  the  reality  of  his  existence. 

Suppose,  that  the  son  of  a  friend,  who  had  been 
long  dead  or  absent,  were  presented  to  us;  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  this  object  would  instantly  revive  its  corre- 
lative idea,  and  recall  to  our  thoughts  all  past  intima- 
cies and  familiarities,  in  more  lively  colours  than  they 
would  otherwise  have  appeared  to  us.  This  is  another 
phaenomenon,  which  seems  to  prove  the  principle 
above  mentioned. 

We  may  observe,  that,  in  these  phaenomena,  the 
belief  of  the  correlative  object  is  always  presupposed; 
without  which  the  relation  could  have  no  effect.  The 
influence  of  the  picture  suppose^  that  we  believe  our 
friend  to  have  once  existed.  CofJf^ity  to  home  can 
never  excite  our  ideas  of  home,  unless  we  believe  that 
it  really  exists.  Now  I  assert,  that  this  belief,  where 
it  reaches  beyond  the  memory  or  senses,  is  of  a  simi- 
lar nature,  and  arises  from  similar  causes,  with  the 
transition  of  thought  and  vivacity  of  conception  here 
explained.  When  I  throw  a  piece  of  dry  wood  into  a 
fire,  my  mind  is  immediately  carried  to  conceive,  that 
it  augments,  not  extinguishes  the  flame.  This  transi- 
tion of  thought  from  the  cause  to  the  effect  proceeds 
not  from  reason.     It  derives  its  origin  altogether  from 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  55 

custom  and  experience.  And  as  it  first  begins  from  an 
object,  present  to  the  senses,  it  renders  the  idea  or  con- 
ception of  flame  more  strong  and  lively  than  any  loose, 
floating  reverie  of  the  imagination.  That  idea  arises 
immediately.  The  thought  moves  instantly  towards 
it,  and  conveys  to  it  all  that  force  of  conception,  which 
is  derived  from  the  impression  present  to  the  senses. 
When  a  sword  is  levelled  at  my  breast,  does  not  the 
idea  of  wound  and  pain  strike  me  more  strongly,  than 
when  a  glass  of  wine  is  presented  to  me,  even  though 
by  accident  this  idea  should  occur  after  the  appearance 
of  the  latter  object  ?  But  what  is  there  in  this  whole 
matter  to  cause  such  a  strong  conception,  except  only 
a  present  object  and  a  customary  transition  to  the  idea 
of  another  object,  which  we  have  been  accustomed  to 
conjoin  with  the  former  ?  This  is  the  whole  operation 
of  the  mind,  in  all  our  conclusions  concerning  matter 
of  fact  and  existence ;  and  it  is  a  satisfaction  to  find 
some  analogies,  by  which  it  may  be  explained.  The"~~j 
transition  from  a  present  object  does  in  all  cases  give  \ 
strength  and  solidity  to  the  related  idea. 

Here,  then,  is  a  kind  of  pre-established  harmony  *^ 
between  the  course  of  nature  and  the  succession  of 
our  i^easy  and  though  the  powers  and  forces,  by  which 
the  former  is  governed,  be  wholly  unknown  to  us  ;  yet 
our  thoughts  and  conceptions  have  still,  we  find,  gone 
on  in  the  same  train  with  the  other  works  of  nature. 
Custom  is  that  principle,  by  which  this  correspondence 
has  been  effected  \  so'necessary  to  the  subsistence  of 
our  species,  and  the  regulation  of  our  conduct,  in  every 
circumstance  and  occurrence  of  human  life.  Had  not 
the  presence  of  an  object,  instantly  excited  the  idea 
of  those  objects,  commonly  conjoined  with  it,  all  our 
knowledge  must  have  been  limited  to  the  narrow  sphere 


a 


56  AAT  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

of  our  memory  and  senses  ;  and  we  should  never  have 
been  able  to  adjust  means  to  ends,  or  employ  our  nat- 
ural powers,  either  to  the  producing  of  good,  or  avoid- 
ing of  evil.  Those,  who  delight  in  the  discovery  and 
contemplation  oi  final  causes,  have  here  ample  subject 
to  employ  their  wonder  and  admiration. 

I  shall  add,  for  a  further  confirmation  of  the  fore- 
going theory,  that,  as  this  operation  of  the  mind,  by 
which  we  infer  like  effects  from  like  causes,  and  vice 
versa,  is  so  essential  to  the  subsistence  of  all  human 
creatures,  it  is  not  probable,  that  it  could  be  trusted  to 
the  fallacious  deductions  of  our  reason,  which  is  slow 
in  its  operations;  appears  not,  in  any  degree,  during 
the  first  years  of  infancy;  and  at  best  is,  in  every  age 
and  period  of  human  life,  extremely  liable  to  error  and 
mistake.  It  is  more  conformable  to  the  ordinary  wis- 
dom of  nature  to  secure  so  necessary  an  act  of  the 
mind,  by  some  instinct  or  mechanical  tendency,  which 
may  be  infallible  in  its  operations,  may  discover  itself 
at  the  first  appearance  of  life  and  thought,  and  may 
be  independent  of  all  the  laboured  deductions  of  the 
understanding.  As  nature  has  taught  us  the  use  of 
our  limbs,  without  giving  us  the  knowledge  of  the 
muscles  and  nerves,  by  which  they  are  actuated ;  so 
has  she  implanted  in  us  an  instinct,  which  carries  for- 
ward the  thought  in  a  correspondent  course  to  that 
which  she  has  established  among  external  objects; 
though  we  are  ignorant  of  those  powers  and  forces,  on 
which  this  regular  course  and  succession  of  objects 
V      totally  depends. 


4%  '■  ^ 


SECTION  VI. 

OF  PROBABILITY.  1 

j 

THOUGH  there  be  no  siich  thing  as  Chance  in  the 
world;  our  ignorance  of  the  real  cause  of  any 
event  has  the  same  influence  on  the  understanding, 
and  begets  a  like  species  of  belief  or  opinion. 

There  is  certainly  a  probability,  which  arises  from 
a  superiority  of  chances  on  any  side ;  and  according 
as  this  superiority  encreases,  and  surpasses  the  oppo- 
site chances,  the  probability  receives  a  proportionable 
encrease,  and  begets  still  a  higher  degree  of  belief  or 
assent  to  that  side,  in  which  we  discover  the  superior- 
ity. If  a  dye  were  marked  with  one  figure  or  number 
of  spots  on  four  sides,  and  with  another  figure  or  num- 
ber of  spots  on  the  two  remaining  sides,  it  would  be 
more  probable,  that  the  former  would  turn  up  than 
the  latter ;  though,  if  it  had  a  thousand  sides  marked 
in  the  same  manner,  and  only  one  side  different,  the 
probability  would  be  much  higher,  and  our  belief  or 
expectation  of  the  event  more  steady  and  secure.  This 
process  of  the  thought  or  reasoning  may  seem  trivial 
and  obvious ;  but  to  those  who  consider  it  more  nar- 


1  Mr.  Locke  divides  all  arguments  into  demonstrative  and  probable.  In 
this  view,  we  must  say,  that  it  is  only  probable  all  men  must  die,  or  that  the 
sun  will  rise  to-morrow.  But  to  conform  our  language  more  to  common  use, 
we  ought  to  divide  arguments  into  demonstrations,  proofs,  and  probabilities. 
By  proofs  meaning  such  arguments  from  experience  as  leave  no  room  for 
doubt  or  opposition. 


58  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

rowly,  it  may,  perhaps,  afford  matter  for  curious  spec- 
ulation. 

It  seems  evident,  that,  when  the  mind  looks  for- 
ward to  discover  the  event,  which  may  result  from  the 
throw  of  such  a  dye,  it  considers  the  turning  up  of 
each  particular  side  as  alike  probable ;  and  this  is  the 
very  nature  of  chance,  to  render  all  the  particular 
events,  comprehended  in  it,  entirely  equal.  But  find- 
ing a  greater  number  of  sides  concur  in  the  one  event 
than  in  the  other,  the  mind  is  carried  more  frequently 
to  that  event,  and  meets  it  oftener,  in  revolving  the 
various  possibilities  or  chances,  on  which  the  ultimate 
result  depends.  This  concurrence  of  several  views  in 
one  particular  event  begets  immediately,  by  an  irtex- 
plicable  contrivance  of  nature,  the  sentiment  of  belief, 
and  gives  that  event  the  advantage  over  its  antagonist, 
which  is  supported  by  a  smaller  number  of  views,  and 
recurs  less  frequently  to  the  mind.  If  we  allow,  that 
belief  is  nothing  but  a  firmer  and  stronger  conception 
of  an  object  than  what  attends  the  mere  fictions  of  the 
imagination,  this  operation  may,  perhaps,  in  some 
measure,  be  accounted  for.  The  concurrence  of  these 
several  views  or  glimpses  imprints  the  idea  more 
strongly  on  the  imagination;  gives  it  superior  force 
and  vigour ;  renders  its  influence  on  the  passions  and 
affections  more  sensible ;  and  in  a  word,  begets  that 
reliance  or  security,  which  constitutes  the  nature  of 
belief  and  opinion. 

The  case  is  the  same  with  the  probability  of  causes, 
as  with  that  of  chance.  There  are  some  causes,  which 
are  entirely  uniform  and  constant  in  producing  a  par- 
ticular effect ;  and  no  instance  has  ever  yet  been  found 
of  any  failure  or  irregularity  in  their  operation.  Fire 
has  always  burned,  and  water  suffocated  every  human 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  59 

creature  :  The  production  of  motion  by  impulse  and 
gravity  is  an  universal  law,  which  has  hitherto  admit- 
ted of  no  exception.  But  there  are  other  causes 
which  have  been  found  more  irregular  and  uncertain; 
nor  has  rhubarb  always  proved  a  purge,  or  opium  a 
soporific  to  every  one,  who  has  taken  these  medicines. 
It  is  true,  when  any  cause  fails  of  producing  its  usual 
effect,  philosophers  ascribe  not  this  to  any  irregularity 
'n  nature;  but  suppose,  that  some  secret  causes,  in  the 
particular  structure  of  parts,  have  prevented  the  op- 
eration. Our  reasonings,  however,  and  conclusions 
concerning  the  event  are  the  same  as  if  this  principle 
had  no  place.  Being  determined  by  custom  to  transfer 
the  past  to  the  future,  in  all  our  inferences  ;  where 
the  past  has  been  entirely  regular  and  uniform,  we  ex- 
pect the  event  with  the  greatest  assurance,  and  leave 
no  room  for  any  contrary  supposition.  But  where 
different  effects  have  been  found  to  follow  from 
causes,  which  are  to  appearance  exactly  similar,  all 
these  various  effects  must  occur  to  the  mind  in  trans- 
ferring the  past  to  the  future,  and  enter  into  our  con- 
sideration, when  we  determine  the  probability  of  the 
event.  Though  we  give  the  preference  to  that  which/ 
has  been  found  most  usual,  and  believe  that  this  effect/ 
will  exist,  we  must  not  overlook  the  other  effects,  but 
must  assign  to  each  of  them  a  particular  weight  and 
authority,  in  proportion  as  we  have  found  it  to  be  more 
or  less  frequent.  It  is  more  probable,  in  almost  everj 
country  of  Europe,  that  there  will  be  frost  sometime 
in  January,  than  that  the  weather  will  continue  oper 
throughout  the  whole  month  ;  though  this  probability 
varies  according  to  the  different  climates,  and  ap- 
proaches to  a  certainty  in  the  more  northern  kingdoms. 
Here  then  it  seems  evident,  that,  when  we  transfer  the  ) 


6o  AI^  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

I  past  to  the  future,   in  order  to  determine  the  effect, 

I  which  will  result  from  any  cause,  we  transfer  all  the 

\  different  events,  in  the  same  proportion  as  they  have 

vappeared  in  the  past,  and  conceive  one  to  have  existed 

a  hundred  times,  for  instance,  another  ten  times,  and 

another  once.     As  a  great  number  of  views  do  here 

1  concur  in  one  event,  they  fortify  and  confirm  it  to  the 
limagination,  beget  that  sentiment  which  we  call  beliefs 
and  give  its  object  the  preference  above  the  contrary 
f  event,  which  is  not  supported  by  an  equal  number  of 
experiments,  and  recurs  not  so  frequently  to  the 
thought  in  transferring  the  past  to  the  future.  Let 
any  one  try  to  account  for  this  operation  of  the  mind 
upon  any  of  the  received  systems  of  philosophy,  and 
he  will  be  sensible  of  the  difficulty.  For  my  part,  I 
shall  think  it  sufficient,  if  the  present  hints  excite  the 
curiosity  of  philosophers,  and  make  them  sensible 
how  defective  all  common  theories  are  in  treating  of 
such  curious  and  such  sublime  subjects. 


SECTION  VII, 


OF  THE  IDEA  OF  NECESSARY  CONNEXION. 
Part  I. 

THE  great  advantage  of  the  mathematical  sciences 
above  the  moral  consists  in  this,  that  the  ideas  of 
the  former,  being  sensible,  are  always  clear  and  deter- 
minate, the  smallest  distinction  between  them  is  im-  '^ 
mediately  perceptible,  and  the  same  terms  are  still     N^v^ 
expressive  of  the  same  ideas,  without  ambiguity  oru^       ^ 
variation.     An  oval  is  never  mistaken  for  a  circle,  nor      ^^ 
an  hyperbola  for  an  ellipsis.    The  isosceles  and  scale-^N^"-       * 
num  are  distinguished  by  boundaries  more  exact  than  r  ^*^^i 
vice  and  virtue,  right  and  wrong.     If  any  term  be  de-       -ir  y 
fined  in  geometry,  the  mind  readily,  of  itself,  substi-    v     /^ 
tutes,  on  all  occasions,  the  definition  for  the  term  de- 
fined :   Or  even  when  no  definition  is  employed,  the 
object  itself  may  be  presented  to  the  senses,  and  by 
that  means  be  steadily  and  clearly  apprehended.    But 
the  finer  sentiments  of  the  mind,  the  operations  of  the 
understanding,  the  various  agitations  of  the  passions, 
though  really  in  themselves  distinct,  easily  escape  us, 
when  surveyed  by  reflection  ;  nor  is  it  in  our  power  to 
recall  the  original  object,  as  often  as  we  have  occasion 
to  contemplate  it.    Ambiguity,  by  this  means,  is  grad- 
ually introduced  into  our  reasonings  :    Similar  objects 
are  readily  taken  to  be  the  same :  And  the  conclusion 
becomes  at  last  very  wide  of  the  premises. 


62  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

One  may  safely,  however,  affirm,  that,  if  we  con- 
sider these  sciences  in  a  proper  light,  their  advantages 
and  disadvantages  nearly  compensate  each  other,  and 
reduce  both  of  them  to  a  state  of  equality.  If  the 
mind,  with  greater  facility,  retains  the  ideas  of  geom- 
etry clear  and  determinate,  it  must  carry  on  a  much 
longer  and  more  intricate  chain  of  reasoning,  and 
compare  ideas  much  wider  of  each  other,  in  order  to 
reach  the  abstruser  truths  of  that  science.  And  if 
moral  ideas  are  apt,  without  extreme  care,  to  fall  into 
obscurity  and  confusion,  the  inferences  are  always 
much  shorter  in  these  disquisitions,  and  the  interme- 
diate steps,  which  lead  to  the  conclusion,  much  fewer 
than  in  the  sciences  which  treat  of  quantity  and  num- 
ber. In  reality,  there  is  scarcely  a  proposition  in 
Euclid  so  simple,  as  not  to  consist  of  more  parts,  than 
are  to  be  found  in  any  moral  reasoning  which  runs  not 
into  chimera  and  conceit..  Where  we  trace  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  human  mind  through  a  few  steps,  we  may 
be  very  well  satisfied  with  our  progress  ;  considering 
how  soon  nature  throws  a  bar  to  all  our  enquiries  con- 
cerning causes,  and  reduces  us  to  an  acknowledgment 
pi'  of  our  ignorance.  l^The  chief  obstacle,  therefore,  to 
\  our  improvement  in  the  moral  or  metaphysical  sci- 
jl  ences  is  the  obscurity  of  the  ideas,  and  ambiguity  of 
>"l!j  the  terms^The  principal  difficulty  in  the  mathematics 
'  I  is  the  length  of  inferences  and  compass  of  thought, 
requisite  to  the  forming  of  any  conclusion.  And,  per- 
haps, our  progress  in  natural  philosophy  is  chiefly  re- 
tarded by  the  want  of  proper  experiments  and  phae- 
nomena,  which  are  often  discovered  by  chance,  and 
cannot  always  be  found,  when  requisite,  even  by  the 
most  diligent  and  prudent  enquiry.  As  moral  philos- 
ophy seems  hitherto   to  have  received  less  improve- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  O3 

ment  than  either  geometry  or  physics,  we  may  con- 
clude, that,  if  there  be  any  difference  in  this  respect 
among  these  sciences,  the  difficulties,  which  obstruct 
the  progress  of  the  former,  require  superior  care  and 
capacity  to  be  surmounted. 

There  are  no  ideas,  which  occur  in  metaphysics,] 
more  obscure  and  uncertain,  than  those  oi power,  force,  \ 
energy  or  necessary  connexion,  of  which  it  is  every  mom-! 
ent  necessary  for  us  to  treat  in  all  our  disquisitions. 
We  shall,  therefore,  endeavour,  in  this  section,  to  fix, 
if  possible,  the  precise  meaning  of  these  terms,  and 
thereby  remove  some  part  of  that  obscurity,  which  is 
so  much  complained  of  in  this  species  of  philosophy. 
It  seems  a  proposition,  which  will  not  admit  of 
much  dispute,  that  all  our  ideas  are  nothing  but  copies 
of  our  impressions,  or,  in  other  words,  that  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  think  of  any  thing,  which  we  have  not  ante- 
cedently/^//, either  by  our  external  or  internal  senses. 
I  have  endeavoured  1  to  explain  and  prove  this  propo- 
sition, and  have  expressed  my  hopes,  that,  by  a  proper 
application  of  it,  men  may  reach  a  greater  clearness 
and  precision  in  philosophical  reasonings,  than  what 
they  have  hitherto  been  able  to  attain.  Complex  ici^as 
may,  perhaps,  be  well  known  by  definition,  which  is 
nothing  but  an  enumeration  of  those  parts  or  simple 
ideasTthat  compose  them.  But  when  we  have  pushed 
up  definitions  to  the  most  simple  ideas,  and  find  still 
some  ambiguity  and  obscurity  ;  what  resource  are  we 
then  possessed  of  ?  By  what  invention  can  we  throw 
light  upon  these  ideas,  and  render  them  altogether 
precise  and  determinate  to  our  intellectual  view  ? 
/Produce  the  impressions  or  original  sentiments,  from 
'  which  the  ideas  are  copied.   These  impressions  are  al  1 

1  Section  II.  ' 


64  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

Strong  and  sensible.  They  admit  not  of  ambiguity. 
They  are  not  only  placed  in  a  full  light  themselves, 
but  may  throw  light  on  their  correspondent  ideas, 
which  lie  in  obscurity.  And  by  this  means,  we  may, 
perhaps,  attain  a  new  microscope  or  species  of  optics, 
by  which,  in  the  moral  sciences,  the  most  minute,  and 
most  simple  ideas  may  be  so  enlarged  as  to  fall  readily 

I  under  our  apprehension,  and  be  equally  known  with 

!  the  grossest  and  most  sensible  ideas,  that  can  be  the 

1  object  of  our  enquiry. 

To  be  fully  acquainted,  therefore,  with  the  idea  of 
power  pxJie^^essary connexion,  let  us  examine  its  im- 
pressionj  and  in  order  to  find  the  irnpTessioh  wltH' 
greater  certainty,  let  us  search  for  it  in  all  the  sources, 
from  which  it  may  possibly  be  derived. 

r  When  we  look  about  us  towards  external  objects, 
and  consider  the  operation  of  causes,  we  are  never 
able,  in  a  single  instance,  to  discover  any  power  or 
necessary  connexion ;  any  quality,  which  binds  the 
effect  to  the  cause,  and  renders  the  one  an  infallible 
consequence  of  the  other.  We  only  find,  that  the  one 
does  actually,  in  fact,  follow  the  other.  The  impulse 
of  one  billiard-ball  is  attended  with  motion  in  the  sec- 
ond. This  is  the  whole  that  appears  to  the  outward 
senses.  The  mind  feels  no  sentiment  or  inward  im- 
pression from  this  succession  of  objects :  Consequently 
there  is  not,  in  any  single,  particular  instance  of  cause 
and  effect,  any  thing  which  can  suggest  the  idea  of 
power  or  necessary  connexion. 

From  the  first  appearance  of  an  object,  we  never 
can  conjecture  what  effect  will  result  from  it.  But 
were  the  power  or  energy  of  any  cause  discoverable 
by  the  mind,  we  could  foresee  the  effect,  even  without 
experience ;  and  might,  at  first,  pronounce  with  cer- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  65 

talnty  concerning  it,  by  mere  dint  of  thought  and  rea- 
soning. 

In  reality,  there  is  no  part  of  matter,  that  does 
ever,  by  its  sensible  qualities,  discover  any  power  or 
energy,  or  give  us  ground  to  imagine,  that  it  could 
produce  any  thing,  or  be  followed  by  any  other  object, 
which  we  could  denominate  its  effect.  Solidity,  exten-^ 
sion,  motion  ;  these  qualities  are  all  complete  in  them- 
selves, and  never  poipt  out  any  other  event  which  may 
result  from  them.  \The  scenes  of  the  universe  are  con- 
tinually shifting,  and  one  object  follows  another  in  an 
uninterrupted  succession;  but /the  power  of  force,  m 
which  actuates  the  whole  machine,  is  entirely  con- 
cealed from  us,  and  never  discovers  itself  in  any  of  the 
sensible  qualities  of  bo^yj  We  know,  that,  in  fact, 
heat  is  a  constant  attendant  of  flame  ;  but  what  is  the 
connexion  between  them,  we  have  no  room  so  much 
as  to  conjecture  or  imagine.  It  is  impossible,  there- 
fore, that  the  idea  of  power  can  be  derived  from  the 
contemplation  of  bodies,  in  single  instances  of  their 
operation  ;  because  no  bodies  ever  discover  any  power, 
which  can  be  the  original  of  this  idea.^ 

Since,  therefore,  external  objects  as  they  appear  to 
the  senses,  give  us  no  idea  of  power  or  necessary  con- 
nexion, by  their  operation  in  particular  instances,  let 
us  see,  whether  this  idea  be  derived  from  reflexion  on 
the  operations  of  our  own  minds,  and  be  copied  from 
any  internal  impression.  It  may  be  said,  that  we  are 
every  moment  conscious  of  internal  power;  while  we 

1  Mr.  Locke,  in  his  chapter  of  power,  says,  that,  finding  from  experience,  \ 
that  there  are  several  new  productions  in  matter,  and  concluding  that  there   ' 
must  somewhere  be  a  power  capable  of  producing  them,  we  arrive  at  last  by 
this  reasoning  at  the  idea  of  power.   But  no  reasoning  can  ever  give  us  a  new» 
original,  simple  idea;  as  this  philosopher  himself  confesses.  This,  therefore,    1 
can  never  be  the  origin  of  that  idea. 


66  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

*eel,  that,  by  the  simple  command  of  our  will,  we  can 
move  the  organs  of  our  body,  or  direct  the  faculties  of 
our  mind.  An  act  of  volition  produces  motion  in  our 
limbs,  or  raises  a  new  idea  in  our  imagination.  This 
influence  of  the  will  we  know  by  consciousness.  Hence 
we  acquire  the  idea  of  power  or  energy ;  and  are  cer- 
tain, that  we  ourselves  and  all  other  intelligent  beings 
are  possessed  of  power.  This  idea,  then,  is  an  idea 
of  reflection,  since  it  arises  from  reflecting  on  the  op- 
erations of  our  own  mind,  and  on  the  command  which 
is  exercised  by  will,  both  over  the  organs  of  the  body 
and  faculties  of  the  soul. 

We  shall  proceed  to  examine  this  pretension ;  and 
first  with  regard  to  the  influence  of  volition  over  the 
organs  of  the  body.  This  influence,  we  may  observe, 
is  a  fact,  which,  like  all  other  natural  events,  can  be 
known  only  by  experience,  and  can  never  be  foreseen 
from  any  apparent  energy  or  power  in  the  cause,  which 
connects  it  with  the  effect,  and  renders  the  one  an  in- 
fallible consequence  of  the  other.  The  motion  of  our 
body  follows  upon  the  command  of  our  will.  Of  this 
we  are  every  moment  conscious.  But  the  means,  by 
which  this  is  effected ;  the  energy,  by  which  the  will 
performs  so  extraordinary  an  operation  ;  of  this  we  are 
so  far  from  being  immediately  conscious,  that  it  must 
for  ever  escape  our  most  diligent  enquiry. 
j  Yoxjirsi'y  is  there  jjiy  principle  in  all  nature  more 
lHjisterionajthanjhe  union  of  soul  with  body;  by  which 
a  supposed  spiritual  substance  acquires  such  an  influ- 
ence over  a  material  one,  that  the  most  refined  thought 
is  able  to  actuate  the  grossest  matter  ?  Were  we  em- 
powered, by  a  secret  wish,  to  remove  mountains,  or 
control  the  planets  in  their  orbit  j  this  extensive  au- 
thority would  not  be  more  extraordinary,  nor  more 


HUMAN-  UNDERSTANDING.  67 

beyond  our  comprehension.  But  if  by  consciousness 
we  perceived  any  power  or  energy  in  the  will,  we  must 
know  this  power;  we  must  know  its  connexion  with 
the  effect ;  we  must  know  the  secret  union  of  soul  and 
body,  and  the  nature  of  both  these  substances;  by 
which  the  one  is  able  to  operate,  in  so  many  instances, 
upon  the  other. 

^^^^;?^/y^  Wejire^not  able  to  move  all  the  organs  of 
the  body  with  a  like  authority ;  though  we  cannot  as- 
sign any  reason  besides  experience,  for  so  remarkable 
a  difference  between  one  and  the  other.  Why  has  the 
will  an  influence  over  the  tongue  and  fingers,  not  over 
the  heart  and  liver  ?  This  question  would  never  em- 
barrass us,  were  we  conscious  of  a  power  in  the  former 
case,  not  in  the  latter.  We  should  then  perceive,  in- 
dependent of  experience,  why  the  authority  of  will 
over  the  organs  of  the  body  is  circumscribed  within 
such  particular  limits.  Being  in  that  case  fully  ac- 
quainted with  the  power  or  force,  by  which  it  operates, 
we  should  also  know,  why  its  influence  reaches  pre- 
cisely to  such  boundaries,  and  no  farther. 

Ajnan,  suddenly  struck  with  palsy  in  the  leg  or 
arm,  or  who  had  newly  lost  those  members,  frequently 
endeavours,  at  first  to  move  them,  and  employ  them  in 
their  usual  offices.  Here  he  is  as  much  conscious  of 
power  to  command  such  limbs,  as  a  man  in  perfect 
health  is  conscious  of  power  to  actuate  any  member 
which  remains  in  its  natural  state  and  condition.  But 
consciousness  never  deceives.  Consequently,  neither 
in  the  one  case  ^or  in  the  other,  are  we  ever  conscious 
of  any  power,  f  ^ye  learn  the  influence  of  our  will  from 
experience  alone.  And  experience  only,  teaches  us, 
how  one  event  constantly  follows  another;    without 


68  AN-  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

instructing  us  in  the  secret  connexion,  which  binds 
them  together,  and  renders  them  inseparable. 

Thirdly,  We  learn  from  anatomy,  that  the  immedi- 
ate object  of  power  in  voluntary  motion,  is  not  the 
member  itself  which  is  moved,  but  certain  muscles, 
and  nerves,  and  animal  spirits,  and,  perhaps,  some- 
thing still  more  minute  and  more  unknown,  through 
which  the  motion  is  successfully  propagated,  ere  it 
reach  the  member  itself  whose  motion  is  the  immediate 
object  of  volition.  Can  there  be  a  more  certain  proof 
that  the  power,  by  which  this  whole  operation  is  per- 
formed, so  far  froni  being  directly  and  fully  known  by 
an  inward  sentiment  or  consciousness,  is,  to  the  last 
degree,  mysterious  and  unintelligible  ?  Here  the  mind 
wills  a  certain  event :  Immediately  another  event,  un- 
known to  ourselves,  and  totally  different  from  the  one 
intended,  is  produced ;  This  event  produces  another, 
equally  unknown :  Till  at  last,  through  a  long  succes- 
sion, the  desired  event  is  produced.  But  if  the  original 
power  were  felt,  it  must  be  known :  Were  it  known, 
its  effect  also  must  be  known ;  since  all  power  is  rela- 
tive to  its  effect.  And  vice  versa,  if  the  effect,  be  not 
known,  the  power  cannot  be  known  nor  felt.  How  in- 
deed can  we  be  conscious  of  a  power  to  move  our  limbs, 
when  we  have  no  such  power  \  but  only  that  to  move 
certain  animal  spirits,  which,  though  they  produce  at 
last  the  motion  of  our  limbs,  yet  operate  in  such  a 
manner  as  is  wholly  beyond  our  comprehension  ? 

We  may,  therefore,  conclude  from  the  whole,  I 
hope,  without  any  temerity,  though  with  assurance; 
that  our  idea  of  power  is  not  copied  from  any  senti- 
ment or  consciousness  of  power  within  ourselves,  when 
we  give  rise  to  animal  motion,  or  apply  our  limbs,  to 
1  their  proper  use  and  office.    That  their  motion  follows 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  69 

the  command  of  the  will  is  a  matter  of  common  expe- 
rience, like  other  natural  events :  But  the  power  or 
energy  by  which  this  is  effected,  like  that  in  other 
natural  events,  is  unknown  and  inconceivable.^ 

Shall  we  then  assert,  that  we  are  conscious  of  a 
power  or  energy  in  our  own  minds,  when,  by  an  act 
or  command  of  our  will,  we  raise  up  a  new  idea,  fix 
the  mind  to  the  contemplation  of  it,  turn  it  on  all  sides, 
and  at  last  dismiss  it  for  some  other  idea,  when  we 
think  that  we  have  surveyed  it  with  sufficient  accuracy? 
I  believe  the  same  arguments  will  prove,  that  even 
this  command  of  the  will  gives  us  no  real  idea  of  force 
or  energy. 

Firsts   It  must  be  allowed,  that,  when  we  know  a  \ 
power,  we  know  that  very  circumstance  in  the  cause,  j 
by  which  it  is  enabled  to  produce  the  effect :  For  thesej 
are  supposed  to  be  synonimous.    We  must,  therefore, 
know  both  the  cause  and  effect,  and  the  relation  be- 
tween them.    But  do  we  pretend  to  be  acquainted  with 
the  nature  of  the  human  soul  and  the  nature  of  an  idea, 
or  the  aptitude  of  the  one  to  produce  the  other?  This 
is  a  real  creation ;  a  production  of  something  out  of 
nothing  :  Which  implies  a  power  so  great,  that  it  may 


1  It  may  be  pretended,  that  the  resistance  which  we  meet  with  in  bodies, 
obliging  us  frequently  to  exert  our  force,  and  call  up  all  our  power,  this  gives 
us  the  idea  of  force  and  power.  It  is  this  nisus,  or  strong  endeavour,  of  which 
we  are  conscious,  that  is  the  original  impression  from  which  this  idea  is  cop- 
ied. But,  first,  we  attribute  power  to  a  vast  number  of  objects,  where  we  never 
can  suppose  this  resistance  or  exertion  of  force  to  take  place ;  to  the  Supreme 
Being,  who  never  meets  with  any  resistance ;  to  the  mind  in  its  command 
over  its  ideas  and  limbs,  in  common  thinking  and  motion,  where  the  effect 
follows  immediately  upon  the  will,  without  any  exertion  or  summoning  up  of 
force ;  to  inanimate  matter,  which  is  not  capable  of  this  sentiment.  Secondly, 
This  sentiment  of  an  endeavour  to  overcome  resistance  has  no  known  con- 
nexion with  any  event :  What  follows  it,  we  know  by  experience;  but  could 
not  know  it  h  priori.  It  must,  however,  be  confessed,  that  the  animal  nisus^ 
which  we  experience,  though  it  can  aflford  no  accurate  precise  idea  of  power, 
enters  very  much  into  that  vulgar,  inaccurate  idea,  which  is  formed  of  ito 


70  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

seem,  at  first  sight,  beyond  the  reach  of  any  being, 
less  than  infinite.  At  least  it  must  be  owned,  that 
such  a  power  is  not  felt,  nor  known,  nor  even  conceiv- 
able by  the  mind.  We  only  feel  the  event,  namely, 
the  existence  of  an  idea,  consequent  to  a  command  of 
the  will :  But  the  manner,  in  which  this  operation  is 
performed,  the  power  by  which  it  is  produced,  is  en- 
tirely beyond  our  comprehension.  T 

Secondly^  The  command  of  the  mind  over  itself  is 
limited,  as  well  as  its  command  over  the  body ;  and 
these  limits  are  not  known  by  reason,  or  any  acquain- 
tance with  the  nature  of  cause  and  effect,  but  only  by 
experience  and  observation,  as  in  all  other  natural 
events  and  in  the  operation  of  external  objects.  Our 
authority  over  our  sentiments  and  passions  is  much 
weaker  than  that  over  our  ideas ;  and  even  the  latter 
authority  is  circumscribed  within  very  narrow  bound- 
aries. Will  any  one  pretend  to  assign  the  ultimate 
reason  of  these  boundaries,  or  show  why  the  power  is 
deficient  in  one  case,  not  in  another. 

Thirdly y  This  self-command  is  very  different  at  dif- 
ferent times.  A  man  in  health  possesses  more  of  it 
than  one  languishing  with  sickness.  We  are  more 
master  of  our  thoughts  in  the  morning  than  in  the  ev- 
ening :  Fasting,  than  after  a  full  meal.  Can  we  give 
any  reason  for  these  variations,  except  experience  ? 
Where  then  is  the  power,  of  which  we  pretend  to  be 
conscious  ?  Is  there  not  here,  either  in  a  spiritual  or 
material  substance,  or  both,  some  secret  mechanism 
or  structure  of  parts,  upon  which  the  effect  depends, 
and  which,  being  entirely  unknown  to  us,  renders  the 
power  or  energy  of  the  will  equally  unknown  and 
incomprehensible  ? 

Volition  is  surely  an  act  of  the  mind,  with  which 


/ 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  71 

we  are  sufficiently  acquainted.  Reflect  upon  it.  Con- 
sider it  on  all  sides.  Do  you  find  anything  in  it  like 
this  creative  power,  by  which  it  raises  from  nothing  a 
new  idea,  and  with  a  kind  of  Fiat^  imitates  the  omni- 
potence of  its  Maker,  if  I  may  be  allowed  so  to  speak, 
who  called  forth  into  existence  all  the  various  scenes 
of  nature  ?  So  far  from  being  conscious  of  this  energy 
in  the  will,  it  requires  as  certain  experience  as  that  of 
which  we  are  possessed,  to  convince  us  that  such  ex- 
traordinary effects  do  ever  result  from  a  simple  act  of 
volition. 

The  generality  of  mankind  never  find  any  difficulty 
in  accounting  for  the  more  common  and  familiar  oper- 
ations of  nature — such  as  the  descent  of  heavy  bodies, 
the  growth  of  plants,  the  generation  of  animals,  or  the 
nourishment  of  bodies  by  food :  But  suppose  that,  in 
all  these  cases,  they  perceive  the  very  force  or  energy 
of  the  cause,  by  which  it  is  connected  with  its  effect, 
and  is  for  ever  infallible  in  its  operation.  They  ac- 
quire, by  long  habit,  such  a  turn  of  mind,  that,  upon 
the  appearace  of  the  cause,  they  immediately  expect 
with  assurance  its  usual  attendant,  and  hardly  con- 
ceive it  possible  that  any  other  event  could  result  from 
it.  It  is  only  on  the  discovery  of  extraordinary  phae- 
nomena,  such  as  earthquakes,  pestilence,  and  prodi- 
gies of  any  kind,  that  they  find  themselves  at  a  loss 
to  assign  a  proper  cause,  and  to  explain  the  manner 
in  which  the  effect  is  produced  by  it.  It  is  usual  for 
men,  in  such  difficulties,  to  have  recourse  to  some  in- 
visible intelligent  principle^  as  the  immediate  cause  of 
that  event  which  surprises  them,  and  which,  they  think, 
cannot  be  accounted  for  from  the  common  powers  of 
nature.     But  philosophers,  who  carry  their  scrutiny  a 

1  0e6$  arrb  it.ywixvi\^. 


4 

72  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

little  farther,  immediately  perceive  that,  even  in  the 
most  familiar  events,  the  energy  of  the  cause  is  as  un- 
intelligible as  in  the  most  unusual,  and  that  we  only 
learn  by  experience  the  frequent  Conjunction  of  objects, 
without  being  ever  able  to  comprehend  anything  like 
Connexion  between  them.  Here,  then,  many  philoso- 
phers think  themselves  obliged  by  reason  to  have  re- 
course, on  all  occasions,  to  the  same  principle,  which 
the  vulgar  never  appeal  to  but  in  cases  that  appear 
miraculous  and  supernatural.  They  acknowledge  mind 
and  intelligence  to  be,  not  only  the  ultimate  and  prig- 
inal  cause  of  all  things,  but  the  immediate  and  sole 
cause  of  every  event  which  appears  in  nature.  They 
pretend  that  those  objects  which  are  commonly  denom- 
inated causes,  are  in  reality  nothing  but  occasions  \  and 
that  the  true  and  direct  principle  of  every  effect  is  not 
any  power  or  force  in  nature,  but  a  volition  of  the 
Supreme  Being,  who  wills  that  such  particular  objects 
should  for  ever  be  conjoined  with  each  other.  Instead 
of  saying  that  one  billard-ball  moves  another  by  a  force 
which  it  has  derived  from  the  author  of  nature,  it  is 
the  Deity  himself,  they  say,  who,  by  a  particular  voli- 
tion, moves  the  second  ball,  being  determined  to  this 
operation  by  the  impulse  of  the  first  ball,  in  conse- 
quence of  those  general  laws  which  he  has  laid  down 
to  himself  in  the  government  of  the  universe:  But 
philosophers  advancing  still  in  their  inquiries,  discover 
that,  as  we  are  totally  ignorant  of  the  power  on  which 
depends  the  mutual  operation  of  bodies,  we  are  no  less 
ignorant  of  that  power  on  which  depends  the  operation 
of  mind  on  body,  or  of  body  on  mind ;  nor  are  we 
able,  either  from  our  senses  or  consciousness,  to  assign 
the  ultimate  principle  in  one  case  more  than  in  the 
other.     The  same  ignorance,  therefore,  reduces  them 


HUMAN-  UNDERSTANDING  73 

to  the  same  conclusion.  They  assert  that  the  Deity 
is  the  immediate  cause  of  the  union  between  soul  and 
body ;  and  that  they  are  not  the  organs  of  sense,  which, 
being  agitated  by  external  objects,  produce  sensations 
in  the  mind ;  but  that  it  is  a  particular  volition  of  our 
omnipotent  Maker,  which  excites  such  a  sensation,  in 
consequence  of  such  a  motion  in  the  organ.  In  like 
manner,  it  is  not  any  energy  in  the  will  that  produces 
local  motion  in  our  members :  It  is  God  himself,  who 
is  pleased  to  second  our  will,  in  itself  impotent,  and  to 
command  that  motion  which  we  erroneously  attribute 
to  our  own  power  and  efficacy.  Nor  do  philosophers 
st5p  at  this  conclusion.  They  sometimes  extend  the 
same  inference  to  the  mind  itself,  in  its  internal  opera- 
tions. Our  mental  vision  or  conception  of  ideas  is 
nothing  but  a  revelation  riiade  to  us  by  our  Maker. 
When  we  voluntarily  turn  our  thoughts  to  any  object, 
and  raise  up  its  image  in  the  fancy,  it  is  not  the  will 
which  creates  that  idea  :  It  is  the  universal  Creator, 
who  discovers  it  to  the  mind,  and  renders  it  present 
to  us. 

Thus,  according  to  these  philosophers,  every  thing 
is  full  of  God.  Not  content  with  the  principle,  that 
nothing  exists  but  by  his  will,  that  nothing  possesses 
any  power  but  by  his  concession :  They  rob  nature, 
and  all  created  beings,  of  every  power,  in  order  to  ren- 
der their  dependence  on  the  Deity  still  more  sensible 
and  immediate.  They  consider  not  that,  by  this  the- 
ory, they  diminish,  instead  of  magnifying,  the  gran- 
deur of  those  attributes,  which  they  affect  so  much  to 
celebrate.  It  argues  surely  more  power  in  the  Deity 
to  delegate  a  certain  degree  of  power  to  inferior  crea- 
tures, than  to  produce  every  thing  by  his  own  immedi- 
ate volition.     It  argues  more  wisdom  to  contrive  at 


74  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

first  the  fabric  of  the  world  with  such  perfect  foresight 
that,  of  itself,  and  by  its  proper  operation,  it  may  serve 
all  the  purposes  of  providence,  than  if  the  great  Crea- 
tor were  obliged  every  moment  to  adjust  its  parts,  and 
animate  by  his  breath  all  the  wheels  of  that  stupen- 
dous machine. 

But  if  we  would  have  a  more  philosophical  confu- 
tation of  this  theory,  perhaps  the  two  following  reflec- 
tions may  suffice. 

First,  it  seems  to  me  that  this\theory  of  the  univer- 
sal energy  and  operation  of  the  Supreme  Being  is  too 
bold  ever  to  carry  conviction  with  it  to  a  man,  suffici- 
ently apprized  of  the  weakness  of  human  reason,  and 
the  narrow  limits  to  which  it  is  confined  in  all  its  oper- 
ations. Though  the  chain  of  arguments  which  con- 
duct to  it  were  ever  so  logical,  there  must  arise  a  strong 
suspicion,  if  not  an  absolute  assurance,  that  it  has 
carried  us  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  our  faculties, 
when  it  leads  to  conclusions  so  extraordinary,  and  so 
remote  from  common  life  and  experience.  We  are  got 
into  fairy  land,  long  ere  we  have  reached  the  last  steps 
of  our  theory ;  and  there  we  have  no  reason  to  trust 
our  common  methods  of  argument,  or  to  think  that 
our  usual  analogies  and  probabilities  have  any  author- 
ity. Our  line  is  too  short  to  fathom  such  immense 
abysses.  And  however  we  may  flatter  ourselves  that 
we  are  guided,  in  every  step  which  we  take,  by  a  kind 
of  verisimilitude  and  experience,  we  may  be  assured 
that  thfs  fancied  experience  has  no  authority  when  we 
thus  apply  it  to  subjects  that  lie  entirely  out  of  the 
sphere  of  experience.  But  on  this  we  shall  have  oc- 
casion to  touch  afterwards.^ 

Secondly,  I  cannot  perceive  any  force  in  the  argu- 

1  Section  XII. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING  75 

ments  on  which  this  theory  is  founded.  We  are  ig* 
norant,  it  is  true,  of  the  manner  in  which  bodies  oper- 
ate on  each  other:  Their  force  or  energy  is  entirely 
incomprehensible :  But  are  we  not  equally  ignorant 
of  the  manner  or  force  hy  which  a  mind,  even  the  su, 
preme  mind,  operates  either  on  itself  or  on  body  ? 
Whence,  I  beseech  you,  do  we  acquire  any  idea  of  it  ? 
We  have  no  sentiment  or  consciousness  of  this  power 
in  ourselves.  We  have  no  idea  of  the  Supreme  Being 
but  what  we  learn  from  reflection  on  our  own  faculties. 
Were  our  ignorance,  therefore,  a  good  reason  for  re- 
jecting any  thing,  we  st  4d  be  led  into  that  principle 
of  denying  all  energy  in  the  w  upreme  Being  as  much 
as  in  the  grossest  matter.  V  'e  surely  comprehend  as 
little  the  operations  of  on-  a^^  of  the  other.  Is  it  more 
difficult  to  conceive  that  mv.tion  may  arise  from  im- 
pulse than  that  it  may  .Ise  from  volition  ?  All  we 
know  is  our  profound  ignorance  in  both  cases.  ^ 

Paf-     I. 

But  to  hasten  to  a  Cr  elusion  of  this  argument, 
which  is  already  drawn  out  to  too  great  a  length :  We 
have  sought  in  vain  for  i-'-fiiigr  of  power  or  necessary 
connexion  in  all  the  souiccs  from  which  we  could  sup- 

1 1  need  not  examine  at  length  the  vis  inertiae  which  is  so  much  talked  of 
in  the  new  philosophy,  and  which  is  ascribed  to  matter.  We  find  by  experi- 
ence, that  a  body  at  rest  or  in  motion  continues  for  ever  in  its  present  state, 
till  put  from  it  by  some  new  cause ;  and  that  a  body  impelled  takes  as  much 
motion  from  the  impelling  body  as  it  acquires  itself.  These  are  facts.  When 
we  call  this  a  vis  inertiae,  we  only  mark  these  facts,  without  pretending  to 
have  any  idea  of  the  inert  power;  in  the  same  manner  as,  when  we  talk  of 
gravity,  we  mean  certain  effects,  without  comprehending  that  active  power. 
It  was  never  the  meaning  of  Sir  Isaac  Newton  to  rob  second  causes  of  all 
force  or  energy ;  though  some  of  his  followers  have  endeavoured  to  establish 
that  theory  upon  his  authority.  On  the  contrary,  that  great  philosopher  had 
recourse  to  an  etherial  active  fluid  to  explain  his  universal  attraction ;  though 
he  was  so  cautious  and  modest  as  to  allow,  that  it  was  a  mere  hypothesis,  not 


76  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 


pose  it  to  be  derived.     It  appears  that,  in  single  in- 
C  \  stances  of  the  operation  of  bodies,  we  never  can,  by 
^   >  our  utmost  scrutiny,  discover  any  thing  but  one  event 
following  another,  without  being  able  to  comprehend 
;    j  any  force  or  power  by  which  the  cause  operates,  or 
v^  any  connexion  between  it  and  its  supposed  effectTi  he 
same  difficulty  occurs  in  contemplating  the  operations 
of  mind  on  body — where  we  observe  the  motion  of  the 
latter  to  follow  upon  the  volition  of  the  former,   but 
are  not  able  to  observe  or  conceive  the  tie  which  binds 
together  the  motion  and  volition,  or  the  energy  by 
which  the  mind  produces  this  effect.     The  authority 
of  the  will  over  its  own  faculties  and  ideas  is  not  a  whit 
more  comprehensible  :    So  that,  upon  the  whole, 'there 
I      appears  not,  throughout  all  nature,  any  one  instance 
\     of  connexion  which  is  conceivable  by  us.:    All  events 
seem  entirely  loose  and  separate.     One  event  follows 
another;  but  we  never  can  observe  any  tie  between "^ 
them.  /They  seem  conjoined,  but  never  connected.  J  And 
as  we  can  have  no  idea  of  any  thing  which  never  ap- 
peared to  our  outward  sense  or  inward  sentiment,  the^__ 
necessary  conclusion  seems  to  be  that  we  have  no  idea 
of  connexion  or  power  at  all,  and  that  these  words  are 
absolutely   without    any    meaning,    when    employed 
either  in  philosophical  reasonings  or  common  life. 

But  there  still  remains  one  method  of  avoiding  this 
conclusion,  and  one  source  which  we  have  not  yet 
examined.     When  any  natural  object  or  event  is  pre- 

to  be  insisted  on,  without  more  experiments.  I  must  confess,  that  there  is 
something  in  the  fate  of  opinions  a  little  extraordinary.  Des  Cartes  insinu* 
ated  that  doctrine  of  the  universal  and  sole  efficacy  of  the  Deity,  without  in- 
sisting on  it.  Malebranche  and  other  Cartesians  made  it  the  foundation  of 
all  their  philosophy.  It  had,  however,  no  authority  in  England.  Locke, 
Clarke,  and  Cudworth,  never  so  much  as  take  notice  of  it,  but  suppose  all 
along,  that  matter  has  a  real,  though  subordinate  and  derived  power.  By 
what  means  has  it  become  so  prevalent  among  our  modern  metaphysicians  ? 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  77 

sented,  it  is  impossible  for  us,  by  any  sagacity  or  pen- 
etration, to  discover,  or  even  conjecture,  without  ex- 
perience, what  event  will  result  from  it,  or  to  carry 
our  foresight  beyond  that  object  which  is  immediately 
present  to  the  memory  and  senses.     Even  after  one 
instance  or  experiment  where  we  have  observed  a  par- 
ticular  event    to  follow  upon   another,    we   are   not 
entitled  to  form   a  general  rule,  or  foretell  what  will 
happen  in  like  cases ;  it  being  justly  esteemed  an  un- 
pardonable temerity  to  judge  of  the  whole  course  of  na- 
ture from  one  single  experiment,  however  accurate  or 
certain.  iBut  when  one  particular  species  of  event  has  -i 
always,  in  all  instances,  been  conjoined  with  another,   \ 
we  make  no  longer  any  scruple  of  foretelling  one  upon   I 
the  appearance  of  the  other,   and  of  employing  that  ! 
reasoning  which  can  alone  assure  us  of  any  matter  of   j 
fact  or  existence.    We  then  call  the  one  object,  C^z^j^;    1 
the  other,  Effect,     We  suppose  that   there   is   some  -  \ 
connexion  between  them;' some j^jwer  in  the  one,  by 
which  it  infallibly  produces  the  other,  and  operates 
with  the  greatest  certainty  and  strongest  necessity.^ 

It  appears,  then,  that  this  idea  of  a  necessary  con. 
nexion  among  events  arises  from  a  number  of  similar 
instances  which  occur  of  the  constant  conjunction  of 
these  events ;  nor  can  that  idea  ever  be  suggested  by 
any  one  of  these  instances,  surveyed  in  all  possible 
lights  and  positions.  But  there  is  nothing  in  a  num- 
ber of  instances,  different  from  every  single  instance, 
which  is  supposed  to  be  exactly  similar ;  except  only, 
that  after  a  repetition  of  similar  instances,  the  mind 
is  carried  by  habit,  upon  the  appearance  of  one  event, 
to  expect  its  usual  attendant,  and  to  believe  that  it  will 
exist.  This  connexion,  therefore,  which  we /<?<?/ in  the 
mind,   this   customary   transition  of  the  imagination 


78  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

I  from  one  object  to  its  usual  attendant,  is  the  sentiment 
I  or  impression  from  which  we  form  the  idea  of  power 
i^  or  necessary  connexion.!  Nothing  farther  is  in  the 
case.  Contemplate  the~subject  on  all  sides ;  you  will 
never  find  any  other  origin  of  that  idea.  This  is  the 
sole  difference  between  one  instance,  from  which  we 
can  never  receive  the  idea  of  connexion,  and  a  number 
of  similar  instances,  by  which  it  is  suggested.  The  first 
time  a  man  saw  the  communication  of  motion  by  im- 
pulse, as  by  the  shock  of  two  billiard  balls,  he  could 
not  pronounce  that  the  one  event  was  connected',  but 
only  that  it  was  conjoined  with  the  other.  After  he  has 
observed  several  instances  of  this  nature,  he  then  pro- 
nounces them  to  be  connected.  What  alteration  has 
happened  to  give  rise  to  this  new  idea  of  connexion  ? 
Nothing  but  that  he  now  Jeels  these  events  to  be  con- 
nected in  his  imagination,  and  can  readily  foretell  the 
existence  of  one  from  flie  appearance  of  the  other. 
When  we  say,  therefore,  that  one  object  is  connected 
with  another,  we  mean  only  that  they  have  acquired 
a  connexion  in  our  thought,  and  give  rise  to  this  infer- 
ence, by  which  they  become  proofs  of  each  other's  ex- 
istence :  A  conclusion  which  is  somewhat  extraordi- 
nary, but  which  seems  founded  on  sufficient  evidence. 
Nor  will  its  evidence  be  weakened  by  any  general  dif- 
fidence of  the  understanding,  or  sceptical  suspicion 
concerning  every  conclusion  which  is  new  and  extra- 
ordinary. No  conclusions  can  be  more  agreeable  to 
scepticism  than  such  as  make  discoveries  concerning 
the  weakness  and  narrow  limits  of  human  reason  and 
capacity. 

And  what  stronger  instance  can  be  produced  of  the 
surprising  ignorance  and  weakness  of  the  understand- 
ing than  the  present  ?     For  surely,  if  there  be  any  re- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  79 

lation  among  objects  which  it  imports  to  us  to  know 
perfectly,  it  is  that  of  cause  and  effect.  On  this  are 
founded  all  our  reasonings  concerning  matter  of  fact 
or  existence.  By  means  of  it  alone  we  attain  any  as- 
surance concerning  objects  which  are  removed  from 
the  present  testimony  of  our  memory  and  senses.  The 
only  immediate  utility  of  all  sciences,  is  to  teach  us, 
how  to  control  and  regulate  future  events  by  their 
causes.  Our  thoughts  and  enquiries  are,  therefore, 
every  moment,  employed  about  this  relation  :  Yet  so 
imperfect  are  theTHeas  which  we  form  concerning  it, 
that  it  is  impossible  to  give  any  just  definition  of  cause, 
except  what  is  drawn  from  something  extraneous  and 
foreign  to  it.  Similar  objects  are  always  conjoined  with 
similar.  Of  this  we  have  experience.  Suitably  to  this 
experience,  therefore,  we  may  define  a  cause  to  be  an 
object y  followed  by  another ^  and  where  all  the  objects  simi 
lar  to  the  jirst  are  followed  by  objects  similar  to  the  second. 
Or  in  other  words  where ^  if  the  first  object  had  not  been, 
the  second  never  had  existed.  The  appearance  of  a  cause 
always  conveys  the  mind,  by  a  customary  transition, 
to  the  idea  of  the  effect.  Of  this  also  we  have  experi- 
ence. We  may,  therefore,  suitably  to  this  experience, 
form  another  definition  of  cause,  and  call  it,  an  object 
followed  by  another ^  and  whose  appearance  always  conveys 
the  thought  to  that  other.  But  though  both  these  defi- 
nitions be  drawn  from  circumstances  foreign  to  the 
cause,  we  cannot  remedy  this  inconvenience,  or  attain 
any  more  perfect  definition,  which  may  point  out  that 
circumstance  in  the  cause,  which  gives  it  a  connexion 
with  its  effect.  We  have  no  idea  of  this  connexion, 
nor  even  any  distinct  notion  what  it  is  we  desire  to 
know,  when  we  endeavour  at  a  conception  of  it.  We 
say,  for  instance,  that  the  vibration  of  this  string  is 


) 


8o  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

the  cause  of  this  particular  sound.  But  what  do  we 
mean  by  that  affirmation  ?  We  either  mean  that  this 
vibration  is  followed  by  this  sound,  and  that  all  similar 
vibrations  have  been  followed  by  similar  sounds :  Or,  that 
this  vibration  is  followed  by  this  sound,  and  that  upon  the 
appearance  of  one  the  mind  anticipates  the  senses,  and  forms 
immediately  an  idea  of  the  other.  We  may  consider  the 
relation  of  cause  and  effect  in  either  of  these  two 
lights;  but  beyond  these,  we  have  no  idea  of  it.^ 

To  recapitulate,  therefore,  the  reasonings  of  this 
section  :  Every  idea  is  copied  from  some  preceding 
impression  or  sentiment ;  and  where  we  cannot  find 
any  iippression,  we  may  be  certain  that  there  is  no 
Idea.Aln  all  single  instances  of  the  operation  of  bodies 
or  minds,  there  is  nothing  that  produces  any  impres- 

1  According  to  these  explications  and  definitions,  the  idea  of  Power  is  re- 
lative as  much  as  that  of  cause ;  and  both  have  a  reference  to  an  effect,  or 
some  other  event  constantly  conjoined  with  the  former.  When  we  consider 
the  ««^«<7w«  circumstance  of  an  object,  by  which  the  degree  or  quantity  of 
its  effect  is  fixed  and  determined,  we  call  that  its  power:  And  accordingly, 
it  is  allowed  by  all  philosophers,  that  the  effect  is  the  measure  of  the  power. 
But  if  they  had  any  idea  of  power,  as  it  is  in  itself,  why  could  not  they  meas- 
ure it  in  itself  ?  The  dispute  whether  the  force  of  a  body  in  motion  be  as  its 
velocity,  or  the  square  of  its  velocity;  this  dispute,  I  say,  needed  not  be  de- 
cided by  comparing  its  effects  in  equal  or  unequal  times  ;  but  by  a  direct 
mensuration  and  comparison. 

As  to  the  frequent  use  of  the  words,  Force,  Power,  Energy,  &c.,  which  ev- 
ery where  occur  in  common  conversation,  as  well  as  in  philosophy ;  that  is 
no  proof,  that  we  are  acquainted,  in  any  instance,  with  the  connecting_princi« 
pie  between  cause  and  effect,  or  can  account  ultimately  for  the  production  of 
one  thing  to  another.  These  words,  as  commonly  used,  have  very  loose 
meanings  annexed  to  them;  and  their  ideas  are  very  uncertain  and  confused. 
No  animal  can  put  external  bodies  in  motion  without  the  sentiment  of  a  nisua 
or  endeavour;  and  every  animal  has  a  sentiment  or  feeling  from  the  stroke 
or  blow  of  an  external  object,  that  is  in  motion.  These  sensations,  which  are 
>  merely  animal,  and  from  which  we  can  h  priori  draw  no  inference,  we  are 
I  apt  to  transfer  to  inanimate  objects,  and  to  suppose,  that  they  have  some  such 
feelings,  whenever  they  transfer  or  receive  motion.  With  regard  to  energies, 
which  are  exerted,  without  our  annexing  to  them  any  idea  of  communicated 
motion,  we  consider  only  the  constant  experienced  conjunction  of  the  events; 
and  as  yj&feel  a  customary  connexion  between  the  ideas,  we  transfer  that 
feeling  to  the  objects;  as  nothing  is  more  usual  than  to  apply  to  external  bodies 
every  internal  sensation,  which  they  occasion. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  8x 

sion,  nor  consequently  can  suggest  any  idea  of  power 
or  necessary  connexion/^  But  when  many  uniform  in- 
stances appear,  and  the  same  object  is  always  followed 
by  the  same  event;  we  then  begin  to  entertain  the 
notion  of  cause  and  connexion.  We  then  feel  a  new 
sentiment  or  impressson,  to  wit,  a  customary  connex- 
ion in  the  thought  or  imagination  between  one  object 
and  its  usual  attendant;  and  this  sentiment  is  the 
original  of  that  idea  which  we  seek  for.  For  as  this 
idea  arises  from  a  number  of  similar  instances,  and 
not  from  any  single  instance,  it  must  arise  from  that  cir- 
cumstance, in  which  the  number  of  instances  differ 
from  every  individual  instance.  But  this  customary 
connexion  or  transition  of  the  imagination  is  the  only 
circumstance  in  which  they  differ.  In  every  other  par- 
ticular they  are  alike.  The  first  instance  which  we  saw 
of  motion  communicated  by  the  shock  of  two  billiard 
balls  (to  return  to  this  obvious  illustration)  is  exactly 
similar  to  any  instance  that  may,  at  present,  occur  to 
us ;  except  only,  that  we  could  not,  at  first,  infer  one 
event  from  the  other ;  which  we  are  enabled  to  do  at 
present,  after  so  long  a  course  of  uniform  experience. 
I  know  not  whether  the  reader  will  readily  apprehend 
this  reasoning.  I  am  afraid  that,  should  I  multiply 
words  about  it,  or  throw  it  into  a  greater  variety  of 
lights,  it  would  only  become  more  obscure  and  intri- 
cate. In  all  abstract  reasonings  there  is  one  point  of 
view  which,  if  we  can  happily  hit,  we  shall  go  farther 
towards  illustrating  the  subject  than  by  all  the  elo- 
quence in  the  world.  This  point  of  view  we  should 
endeavour  to  reach,  and  reserve  the  flowers  of  rhetoric 
for  subjects  which  are  more  adapted  to  them. 


\  t^"^' 


SECTION  VIII. 

OF  LIBERTY  AND  NECESSITY, 

Part  I. 

FT  might  reasonably  be  expected  in  questions  which 
X  have  been  canvassed  and  disputed  with  great  eager- 
ness, since  the  first  origin  of  science  and  philosophy, 
that  the  meaning  of  all  the  terms,  at  least,  should 
have  been  agreed  upon  among  the  disputants;  and 
our  enquiries,  in  the  course  of  two  thousand  years, 
been  able  to  pass  from  words  to  the  true  and  real  sub- 
ject of  the  controversy.  For  how  easy  may  it  seem 
to  give  exact  definitions  of  the  terms  employed  in  rea- 
soning, and  make  these  definitions,  not  the  mere  sound 
of  words,  the  object  of  future  scrutiny  and  examina- 
tion? But  if  we  consider  the  matter  more  narrowly, 
we  shall  be  apt  to  draw  a  quite  opposite  conclusion. 
From  this  circumstance  alone,  that  a  controversy  has 
been  long  kept  on  foot,  and  remains  still  undecided, 
we  may  presume  that  there  is  some  ambiguity  in  the 
expression,  and  that  the  disputants  affix  different  ideas 
to  the  terms  employed  in  the  controversy.  For  as  the 
faculties  of  the  mind  are  supposed  to  be  naturally  alike 
in  every  individual ;  otherwise  nothing  could  be  more 
fruitless  than  to  reason  or  dispute  together;  it  were 
impossible,  if  men  affix  the  same  ideas  to  their  terms, 
that  they  could  so  long  form  different  opinions  of  the 
same  subject ;  especially  when  they  communicate  their 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  83 

views,  and  each  party  turn  themselves  on  all  sides,  in 
search  of  arguments  which  may  give  them  the  victory 
over  their  antagonists.  It  is  true,  if  men  attempt  the 
discussion  of  questions  which  lie  entirely  beyond  the 
reach  of  human  capacity,  such  as  those  concerning 
the  origin  of  worlds,  or  the  economy  of  the  intellectual 
system  or  region  of  spirits,  they  may  long  beat  the  air 
in  their  fruitless  contests,  and  never  arrive  at  any  de- 
terminate conclusion.  But  if  the  question  regard  any 
subject  of  common  life  and  experience,  nothing,  one 
would  think,  could  preserve  the  dispute  so  long  unde- 
cided but  some  ambiguous  expressions,  which  keep 
the  antagonists  still  at  a  distance,  and  hinder  them 
from  grappling  with  each  other. 

This  has  been  the  case  in  the  long  disputed  ques- 
tion concerning  liberty  and  necessity ;  and  to  so  re- 
markable a  degree  that,  if  I  be  not  much  mistaken, 
we  shall  find,  that  all  mankind,  both  learned  and  ig- 
norant, have  always  been  of  the  same  opinion  with 
regard  to  this  subject,  and  that  a  few  intelligible  defi- 
nitions would  immediately  have  put  an  end  to  the 
whole  controversy.  I  own  that  this  dispute  has  been 
so  much  canvassed  on  all  hands,  and  has  led  philoso- 
phers into  such  a  labyrinth  of  obscure  sophistry,  that 
it  is  no  wonder,  if  a  sensible  reader  indulge  his  ease 
so  far  as  to  turn  a  deaf  ear  to  the  proposal  of  such  a 
question,  from  which  he  can  expect  neither  instruction 
nor  entertainment.  But  the  state  of  the  argument  here 
proposed  may,  perhaps,  serve  to  renew  his  attention ; 
as  it  has  more  novelty,  promises  at  least  some  decision 
of  the  controversy,  and  will  not  much  disturb  his  ease 
by  any  intricate  or  obscure  reasoning. 

I  hope,  therefore,  to  make  it  appear  that  all  men 
have  ever  agreed  in  the  doctrine  both  of  necessity  and 


»^^ 


84  AN"  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

^i  liberty,   according  to  any  reasonable  sense,  which 
/  can  be  put  on  these  terms ;  and  that/  the  whole  ^con- 
troversy has  hitherto  turned  merely  upon  wordsi  \  We 
shall  begin  with  examining  the  doctrine  of  necessity.*) 

^  It  is  universally  allowed  that  matter,  in  all  its  op- 

erations, is  actuated  by  a  necessary  force,  and  that 
every  natural  effect  is  so  precisely  determined  by  the 
energy  of  its  cause  that  no  other  effect,  in  such  par- 
ticular circumstances,  could  possibly  have  resulted 
from  it.^  The  degree  and  direction  of  every  motion  is, 
by  the  laws  of  nature,  prescribed  with  such  exactness 
that  a  living  creature  may  as  soon  arise  from  the  shock 
of  two  bodies  as  motion  in  any  other  degree  or  direc- 
tion than  what  is  actually  produced  by  it.^  Would  we, 
therefore,  form  a  just  and  precise  idea  of  necessity,  we 
must  consider  whence  that  idea  arises  when  we  apply 
it  to  the  operation  of  bodies. 

It  seems  evident  that,  if  all  the  scenes  of  nature 
were  continually  shifted  in  such  a  manner  that  no  two 
events  bore  any  resemblance  to  each  other,  but  every 
object  was  entirely  new,  without  any  similitude  to 
whatever  had  been  seen  before,  we  should  never,  in 
that  case,  have  attained  the  least  idea  of  necessity,  or 
of  a  connexion  among  these  objects.  We  might  say, 
upon  such  a  supposition,  that  one  object  or  event  has 
followed  another ;  not  that  one  was  produced  by  the 
other.  \The  relation  of  cause  and  effect  must  be  utterly 
unknown  to  mankind. .    Inference  and  reasoning  con- 

,     cerning  the  operations  of  nature  would,  from  that  mo- 
X.ment,  be  at  an  end;  and  the  memory  and  senses  re- 

^  main  the  only  canals,  by  which  the  knowledge  of  any 
'*'       real  existence  could  possibly  have  access  to  the  mind. 
Our  idea,  therefore,  of  necessity  and  causation  arises 
entirely  from  the  uniformity  observable  in  the  opera- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  85 

tions  of  nature,  jfwhere  siijiilar  objects  are  constantly  % 
conjoined  together,  and^^he  mind  is  determined  by   \, 
custom  to  infer  the  one  from  the  appearance  of  the    *^ 
other.  ^   These  two  circumstances  form  the  whole  of 
that  necessity,  which  we  ascribe  to  matter.  •  Beyond^ j    ** 
,fthe  constant  conjunction  of  similar  objects,  and  the  con-    1  / 
j  sequent  inference  from  one  to  the  other,  we  have  no    3 
'notion  of  any  necessity  or  connexion.      .-.^..^-^  ----'::::>«*' 

Ttf  it  appear,  therefore,  that  all  manlmiB  have  ever  | 
allowed,  without  any  doubt  or  hesitation,  that  these!        J2 
.,two  circumstances  take  place  in  the  voluntary  actionsfY^ 
/  of  men,  and  in  the  operations  of  mind  ;  it  must  follow,'   % 
1    that  all  mankind  have  ever  agreed  in  the  doctrine  of  / 
j    necessity,  and  that  they  have  hitherto  disputed,  merel^ 

'for  jiot  understanding  each  other.  ^.-^--" 

LAs  to  the  first  circumstance,  the  constant  and  reg- 
ular conjunction  of  similar  events,  we  may  possibly 
satisfy  ourselves  by  the  following  considerations.  It 
is  universally  acknowledged  that  there  is  a  great  uni- 
formity among  the  actions  of  men,  in  all  nations  and 
ages,  and  that  human  nature  remains  still  the  same, 
in  its  principles  and  operations.  The  same  motives 
always  produce  the  same  actions  :^  The  same  events 
follow  from  the  same  causes.  Ambition,  avarice,  self- 
love,  vanity,  friendship,  generosity,  public  spirit: 
these  passions,  mixed  in  various  degrees,  and  distrib- 
uted through  society,  have  been,  from  the  beginning 
of  the  world,  and  still  are,  the  source  of  all  the  actions 
and  enterprises,  which  have  ever  been  observed  among 
mankind.  Would  you  know  the  sentiments,  inclina-\ 
ti.ons,  and  course  of  life  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  ?  ( 
Study  well  the  temper  and  actions  of  the  French  and 
English  :  You  cannot  be  much  mistaken  in  transfer- 
ring to  the  former  most  of  the  observations  which  you 


86  AlSr  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

have  made  with  regard  to  the  latter.  Mankind  are  so 
much  the  same,  in  all  times  and  places,  that  history 
informs  us  of  nothing  new  or  strange  in  this  particular. 
Its  chief  use  is  only  to  discover  the  constant  and  uni- 
versal principles  of  human  nature,  by  showing  men  in 
all  varieties  of  circumstances  and  situations,  and  fur- 
nishing us  with  materials  from  which  we  may  form  our 
observations  and  become  acquainted  with  the  regular 
springs  of  human  action  and  behaviour.  These  rec- 
ords of  wars,  intrigues,  factions,  and  revolutions,  are 
so  many  collections  of  experiments,  by  which  the  poli- 
tician or  moral  philosopher  fixes  the  principles  of  his 
science,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  physician  or  natu- 
ral philosopher  becomes  acquainted  with  the  nature 
of  plants,  minerals,  and  other  external  objects,  by  the 
experiments  which  he  forms  concerning  them.  Nor 
are  the  earth,  water,  and  other  elements,  examined 
by  Aristotle,  and  Hippocrates,  more  like  to  those 
which  at  present  lie  under  our  observation  than  the 
men  described  by  Polybius  and  Tacitus  are  to  those 
who  now  govern  the  world. 

Should  a  traveller,  returning  from  a  far  country, 
bring  us  an  account  of  men,  wholly  different  from  any 
with  whom  we  were  ever  acquainted ;  men,  who  were 
entirely  divested  of  avarice,  ambition,  or  revenge; 
who  knew  no  pleasure  but  friendship,  generosity,  and 
public  spirit ;  we  should  immediately,  from  these  cir- 
cumstances, detect  the  falsehood,  and  prove  him  a 
liar,  with  the  same  certainty  as  if  he  had  stuffed  his 
narration  with  stories  of  centaurs  and  dragons,  mira- 
cles and  prodigies.  And  if  we  would  explode  any  for- 
gery in  history,  we  cannot  make  use  of  a  more  convin- 
cing argument,  than  to  prove,  that  the  actions  ascribed 
to  any  person  are  directly  contrary  to  the  course  of 


-    HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  87 

nature,  and  that  no  human  motives,  in  such  circum- 
stances, could  ever  induce  him  to  such  a  conduct. 
The  veracity  of  Quintus  Curtius  is  as  much  to  be  sus- 
pected, when  he  describes  the  supernatural  courage 
of  Alexander,  by  which  he  was  hurried  on  singly  to 
attack  multitudes,  as  when  he  describes  his  supernat- 
ural force  and  activity,  by  which  he  was  able  to  resist 
them.  So  readily  and  universally  do  we  acknowledge 
a  uniformity  in  human  motives  and  actions  as  well  as 
in  the  operations  of  body. 

Hence  likewise  the  benefit  of  that  experience,  ac- 
quired by  long  life  and  a  variety  of  business  and  com- 
pany, in  order  to  instruct  us  in  the  principles  of  hu- 
man nature,  and  regulate  our  future  conduct,  as  well 
as  speculation.  By  means  of  this  guide,  we  mount  up 
to  the  knowledge  of  men's  inclinations  and  motives, 
from  their  actions,  expressions,  and  even  gestures; 
and  again  descend  to  the  interpretation  of  their  actions 

Jxova  our  knowledge  of  their  motives  and  inclinations. 

I  The  general  observations  treasured  up  by  a  course  of 
experience,  give  us  the  clue  of  human  nature,  and 
teach  us  to  unravel  all  its  intricacies.,/  Pretexts  and 
appearances  no  longer  deceive  us.  Public  declarations 
pass  for  the  specious  colouring  of  a  cause.  And  though 
virtue  and  honour  be  allowed  their  proper  weight  and 
authority,  that  perfect  disinterestedness,  so  often  pre- 
tended to,  is  never  expected  in  multitudes  and  parties; 
seldom  in  their  leaders  ;  and  scarcely  even  in  individ- 
uals of  any  rank  or  station.  /But  were  there  no  uni- 
formity in  human  actions,  and  were  every  experiment 
which  we  could  form  of  this  kind  irregular  and  anom- 
alous, it  were  impossible  to  collect  any  general  obser- 
vations concerning  mankind ;  and  no  experience,  how- 
ever accurately  digested   by  reflection,   would  ever 


88  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

serve  to  any  purpose.  Why  is  the  aged  husbandman 
more  skilful  in  his  calling  than  the  young  beginner 
but  because  there  is  a  certain  uniformity  in  the  opera- 
tion of  the  sun,  rain,  and  earth  towards  the  production 
of  vegetables  \  and  experience  teaches  the  old  practi- 
tioner the  rules  by  which  this  operation  is  governed 
and  directed./ 

We  must  not,  however,  expect  that  this  uniformity 
of  human  actions  should  be  carried  to  such  a  length 
as  that  all  men,  in  the  same  circumstances,  will  always 
act  precisely  in  the  same  manner,  without  making  any 
allowance  for  the  diversity  of  characters,  prejudices, 
and  opinions.  Such  a  uniformity  in  every  particular, 
is  found  in  no  part  of  nature.  On  the  contrary,  from 
observing  the  variety  of  conduct  in  different  men,  we 
are  enabled  to  form  a  greater  variety  of  maxims,  which 
still  suppose  a  degree  of  uniformity  and  regularity. 

Are  the  manners  of  men  different  in  different  ages 
and  countries  ?  We  learn  thence  the  great  force  of 
custom  and  education,  which  mould  the  human  mind 
from  its  infancy  and  form  it  into  a  fixed  and  established 
character.  Is  the  behaviour  and  conduct  of  the  one 
sex  very  unlike  that  of  the  other  ?  Is  it  thence  we  be- 
come acquainted  with  the  different  characters  which 
nature  has  impressed  upon  the  sexes,  and  which  she 
preserves  with  constancy  and  regularity?  Are  the  ac- 
tions of  the  same  person  much  diversified  in  the  dif- 
ferent periods  of  his  life,  from  infancy  to  old  age? 
This  affords  room  for  many  general  observations  con- 
cerning the  gradual  change  of  our  sentiments  and  in- 
clinations, and  the  different  maxims  which  prevail  in 
the  different  ages  of  human  creatures.  Even  the  char- 
acters, which  are  peculiar  to  each  individual,  have  a 
uniformity  in  their  influence  ;  otherwise  our  acquain- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  89 

tance  with  the  persons  and  our  observation  of  their 
conduct  could  never  teach  us  their  dispositions,  or 
serve  to  direct  our  behaviour  with  regard  to  them. 

I  grant  it  possible  to  find  some  actions,  which  seem 
to  have  no  regular  connexion  with  any  known  motives, 
and  are  exceptions  to  all  the  measures  of  conduct 
which  have  ever  been  established  for  the  government 
of  men.  But  if  we  would  willingly  know  what  judge- 
ment should  be  formed  of  such  irregular  and  extraor- 
dinary actions,  we  may  consider  the  sentiments  com- 
monly entertained  with  regard  to  those  irregular 
events  which  appear  in  the  course  of  nature,  and  the 
operations  of  external  objects.  All  causes  are  not  con- 
joined to  their  usual  effects  with  like  uniformity.  An 
artificer,  who  handles  only  dead  matter,  may  be  dis- 
appointed of  his  aim,  as  well  as  the  politician,  who 
directs  the  conduct  of  sensible  and  intelligent  agents. 

The  vulgar,  who  take  things  according  to  their  first 
appearance,  attribute  the  uncertainty  of  events  to  such 
an  uncertainty  in  the  causes  as  makes  the  latter  often 
fail  of  their  usual  influence ;  though  they  meet  with 
no  impediment  in  their  operation.  But  philosophers, 
observing  that,  almost  in  every  part  of  nature,  there 
is  contained  a  vast  variety  of  springs  and  principles, 
which  are  hid,  by  reason  of  their  minuteness  or  re- 
moteness;  find,  that  it  is  at  least  possible  the  contra- 
riety of  events  may  not  proceed  from  any  contingency 
in  the  cause,  but  from  the  secret  operation  of  contrary 
causes.  This  possibility  is  converted  into  certainty 
by  farther  observation,  when  they  remark  that,  upon 
an  exact  scrutiny,  a  contrariety  of  effects  always  be- 
trays a  contrariety  of  causes,  and  proceeds  from  their 
mutual  opposition.  A  peasant  can  give  no  better  rea- 
son for  the  stopping  of  any  clock  or  watch  than  to 


90  AN  ENQUIEY  CONCERNING 

say  that  it  does  not  commonly  go  right :  But  an  artist 
easily  perceives  that  the  same  force  in  the  spring  or 
pendulum  has  always  the  same  influence  on  the  wheels; 
but  fails  of  its  usual  effect,  perhaps  by  reason  of  a 
grain  of  dust,  which  puts  a  stop  to  the  whole  move- 
ment. j|/ From  the  observation  of  several  parallel  in- 
stances, philosophers  form  a  maxim  that  the  connexion 
between  all  causes  and  effects  is  equally  necessary, 
i  and  that  its  seeming  uncertainty  in  some  instances 
i  proceeds  from  the  secret  opposition  of  contrary  causes 
Thus,  for  instance,  in  the  human  body,  when'tlie 
usual  symptoms  of  health  or  sickness  disappoint  our 
expectation ;  when  medicines  operate  not  with  their 
wonted  powers;  when  irregular  events  follow  from  any 
particular  cause ;  the  philosopher  and  physician  are 
not  surprised  at  the  matter,  nor  are  ever  tempted  to 
deny,  in  general,  the  necessity  and  uniformity  of  those 
principles  by  which  the  animal  economy  is  conducted. 
They  know  that  a  human  body  is  a  mighty  compli- 
cated machine :  That  many  secret  powers  lurk  in  it, 
which  are  altogether  beyond  our  comprehension  :  That 
to  us  it  must  often  appear  very  uncertain  in  its  opera- 
tions :  And  that  therefore  the  irregular  events,  which 
outwardly  discover  themselves,  can  be  no  proof  that 
the  laws  of  nature  are  not  observed  with  the  greatest 
regularity  in  its  internal  operations  and  government. 
The  philosopher,  if  he  be  consistent,  must  apply 
the  same  reasoning  to  the  actions  and  volitions  of  in- 
telligent agents.  The  most  irregular  and  unexpected 
resolutions  of  men  may  frequently  be  accounted  for  by 
those  who  know  every  particular  circumstance  of  their 
character  and  situation.  A  person  of  an  obliging  dis- 
position gives  a  peevish  answer :  But  he  has  the  tooth- 
ache, or  has  not  dined.     A  stupid  fellow  discovers  an 


HUMAN-  UNDERSTANDING.  91 

uncommon  alacrity  in  his  carriage :  But  he  has  met 
with  a  sudden  piece  of  good  fortune.  Or  even  when 
an  action,  as  sometimes  happens,  cannot  be  particu- 
larly accounted  for,  either  by  the  person  himself  or  by 
others ;  we  know,  in  general,  that  the  characters  of 
men  are,  to  a  certain  degree,  inconstant  and  irregular. 
This  is,  in  a  manner,  the  constant  character  of  human 
nature;  though  it  be  applicable,  in  a  more  particular 
manner,  to  some  persons  who  have  no  fixed  rule  for 
their  conduct,  but  proceed  in  a  continued  course  of 
caprice  and  inconstancy.  The  internal  principles  and 
motives  may  operate  in  a  uniform  manner,  notwith- 
standing these  seeming  irregularities ;  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  winds,  rain,  clouds,  and  other  varia- 
tions of  the  weather  are  supposed  to  be  governed  by 
steady  principles ;  though  not  easily  discoverable  by 
human  sagacity  and  enquiry. 

j[iThus  it  appears,  not  only  that  the  conjunction  be- 
tween jTiaJtiY.es,and  voluntary  .actioiiLg^is  as  regular  and 
uniform  as  that  between  the  cause  and  effect  in  any 
part  of  nature  ;  but  also  that  this  regular  conjunction 
has  been  universally  acknowledged  among  mankind, 
and  has  never  been  the  subject  of  dispute,  either  in 
philosophy  or  common  life."/  Now,  as  it  is  from  past 
experience  that  we  draw  all  inferences  concerning  the 
future,  and  as  we  conclude  that  objects  will  always  be 
conjoined  together  which  we  find  to  have  always  been 
conjoined ;  it  may  seem  superfluous  to  prove  that  this 
experienced  uniformity  in  human  actions  is  a  source 
whence  we  draw  inferences  concerning  them.7  But  in 
order  to  throw  the  argument  into  a  greater  variety  of 
lights  we  shall  also  insist,  though  briefly,  on  this 
latter  topic. 

The  mutual  dependence  of  men  is  so  great  in  all 


92  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

societies  that  scarce  any  human  action  is  entirely  com- 
plete in  itself,  or  is  performed  without  some  reference 
to  the  actions  of  others,  which  are  requisite  to  make 
it  answer  fully  the  intention  of  the  agent.  The  poor- 
est artificer,  who  labours  alone,  expects  at  least  the 
protection  of  the  magistrate,  to  ensure  him  the  enjoy- 
ment of  the  fruits  of  his  labour.  He  also  expects  that, 
when  he  carries  his  goods  to  market,  and  offers  them 
at  a  reasonable  price,  he  shall  find  purchasers,  and 
shall  be  able,  by  the  money  he  acquires,  to  engage 
others  to  supply  him  with  those  commodities  which 
are  requisite  for  his  subsistence.  In  proportion  as  men 
extend  their  dealings,  and  render  their  intercourse 
with  others  more  complicated,  they  always  compre- 
hend, in  their  schemes  of  life,  a  greater  variety  of  vol- 
untary actions,  which  they  expect,  from  the  proper 
motives,  to  co-operate  with  their  own.  In  all  these 
conclusions  they  take  their  measures  from  past  expe- 
rience, in  the  same  manner  as  in  their  reasonings  con- 
cerning external  objects  ;  and  firmly  believe  that  men, 
as  well  as  all  the  elements,  are  to  continue,  in  their 
operations,  the  same  that  they  have  ever  found  them. 
A  manufacturer  reckons  upon  the  labour  of  his  ser- 
vants for  the  execution  of  any  work  as  much  as  upon 
the  tools  which  he  employs,  and  would  be  equally 
surprised  were  his  expectations  disappointed.  In 
short,  this  experimental  inference  and  reasoning  con- 
cerning the  actions  of  others  enters  so  much  into 
human  life,  that  no  man,  while  awake,  is  ever  a  mo- 
ment without  employing  it.  Have  we  not  reason, 
therefore,  to  affirm  that  all  mankind  have  always 
agreed  in  the  doctrine  of  necessity  according  to  the 
foregoing  definition  and  explication  of  it  ? 

Nor  have  philosophers  ever  entertained  a  different 


r 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  93 

Opinion  from  the  people  in  this  particular.     For,  not 
to  mention  that  almost  every  action  of  their  life  sup- 
poses that  opinion,  there  are  even  few  of  the  specula- 
tive parts  of  learning  to  which  it  is  not  essential.  What 
would  become  of  history^  had  we  not  a  dependence  on 
the  veracity  of  the  historian  according  to  the  experi- 
ence which  we  have  had  of  mankind  ?     How  could 
politics  be  a  science,  if  laws  and  forms  of  government 
had  not  a  uniform  influence  upon  society?     Where 
would  be  the  foundation  of  moralsy  if  particular  char- 
acters had  no  certain  or  determinate  power  to  produce 
particular  sentiments,  and  if  these  sentiments  had  no 
constant  operation  on  actions  ?     And  with  what  pre- 
tence could  we  employ  our  criticism  upon  any  poet  or 
polite  author,  if  we  could  not  pronounce  the  conduct 
and  sentiments  of  his  actors  either  natural  or  unnatu- 
ral to  such  characters,  and  in  such  circumstances?    _ 
it  seems  almost  impossible,  therefore,  to  engage  eithet"      ^^  \ 
in  science  or  action  of  any  kind  without  acknowledg-       f/1 
ing  the  doctrine  of  necessity,  and  this  inference  from     /// 
motive  to  voluntary  actions,  from  characters  to  con-     /j/ 
du^tr  --"^ 

.  And  indeed,  when  we  consider  how  aptly  naturat  \ 
and  mora/  evidence  link  together,  and  form  only  one  ,. 
chain  of  argument,  we  shall  make  no  scruple  to  allow 
that  they  are  of  the  same  nature,  and  derived  from  the 
saime  principles.  A  prisoner  who  has  neither  money 
nor  interest,  discovers  the  impossibility  of  his  escape, 
as  well  when  he  considers  the  obstinacy  of  the  goaler, 
as  the  walls  and  bars  with  which  he  is  surrounded ; 
and,  in  all  attempts  for  his  freedom,  chooses  rather  to 
work  upon  the  stone  and  iron  of  the  one,  than  upon 
the  inflexible  nature  of  the  other.  The  same  prisoner, 
when  conducted  to  the  scaffold,  foresees  his  death  as 


94  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

certainly  from  the  constancy  and  fidelity  of  his  guards, 
as  from  the  operation  of  the  axe  or  wheel.  His  mind 
runs  along  a  certain  train  of  ideas ;  The  refusal  of  the 
soldiers  to  consent  to  his  escape ;  the  action  of  the 
executioner ;  the  separation  of  the  head  and  body ; 
bleeding,  convulsive  motions,  and  death.  Here  is  a 
connected  chain  of  natural  causes  and  voluntary  ac- 
tions ;  but  the  mind  feels  no  difference  between  them 
in  passing  from  one  link  to  another :  Nor  is  less  cer- 
tain of  the  future  event  than  if  it  were  connected  with 
the  objects  present  to  the  memory  or  senses,  by  a  train 
of  causes,  cemented  together  by  what  we  are  pleased 
to  call  a  physical  necessity.  The  same  experienced 
union  has  the  same  effect  on  the  mind,  whether  the 
united  objects  be  motives,  volition,  and  actions  ;  or 
figure  and  motion.  We  may  change  the  name  of 
things  ;  but  their  nature  and  their  operation  on  the 
understanding  never  change. 

Were  a  man,  whom  I  know  to  be  honest  and  opu- 
lent, and  with  whom  I  live  in  intimate  friendship,  to 
come  into  my  house,  where  I  am  surrounded  with  my 
servants,  I  rest  assured  that  he  is  not  to  stab  me  be- 
fore he  leaves  it  in  order  to  rob  me  of  my  silver  stand- 
ish ;  and  I  no  more  suspect  this  event  than  the  fall- 
ing of  the  house  itself,  which  is  new,  and  solidly  built 
and  founded. — But  he  may  have  been  seized  with  a  sud- 
den and  unknown  frenzy. — So  may  a  sudden  earthquake 
arise,  and  shake  and  tumble  my  house  about  my  ears- 
I  shall  therefore  change  the  suppositions.  I  shall  say 
that  I  know  with  certainty  that  he  is  not  to  put  his 
hand  into  the  fire  and  hold  it  there  till  it  be  consumed  : 
And  this  event,  I  think  I  can  foretell  with  the  same 
assurance,  as  that,  if  he  throw  himself  out  at  the  win- 
dow, and  meet  with  no  obstruction,  he  will  not  remain 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  95 

a  moment  suspended  in  the  air.  No  suspicion  of  an 
unknown  frenzy  can  give  the  least  possibility  to  the 
former  event,  which  is  so  contrary  to  all  the  known 
principles  of  human  nature.  A  man  who  at  noon 
leaves  his  purse  full  of  gold  on  the  pavement  at  Char- 
ing-Cross,  may  as  well  expect  that  it  will  fly  away  like 
a  feather,  as  that  he  will  find  it  untouched  an  hour 
after.  /Above  one  half  of  human  reasonings  contain 
inferences  of  a  similar  nature,  attended  with  more  or 
less  degrees  of  certainty  proportioned  to  our  experP" 
ence  of  the  usual  conduct  of  mankind  in  such  partic- 
ular situations.!  ""^ 
I  have  fre5«ently  considered,  what  could  possibly 
be  the  reason  why  all  mankind,  though  they  have 
ever,  without  hesitation,  acknowledged  the  doctrine 
of  necessity  in  their  whole  practice  and  reasoning, 
have  yet  not  discovered  such  a  reluctance  to  acknowl- 
edge it  in  words,  and  have  rather  shown  a  propensity, 
in  all  ages,  to  profess  the  contrary  opinion.  The  mat- 
ter, I  think,  may  be  accounted  for  after  the  following 
manner.  If  we  examine  the  operations  of  body,  and 
the  production  of  effects  from  their  causes,  we  shall 
find  that  all  our  faculties  can  never  carry  us  farther  in 
our  knowledge  of  this  relation  than  barely  to  observe 
that  particular  objects  are  constantly  conjoined  together, 
and  that  the  mind  is  carried,  by  a  customary  transition^ 
from  the  appearance  of  one  to  the  belief  of  the  other. 
But  though  this  conclusion  concerning  human  ignor- 
ance be  the  result  of  the  strictest  scrutiny  of  this  sub- 
ject, men  still  entertain  a  strong  propensity  to  believe 
that  they  penetrate  farther  into  the  powers  of  nature, 
and  perceive  something  like  a  necessary  connexion 
between  the  cause  and  the  effect.  When  again  they 
turn  their  reflections  towards  the  operations  of  their 


96  AN  ENQUIR  Y  CONCERNING 

own  minds,  and  pd  no  such  connexion  of  the  motive 
ll  and  the  action;; they  are  thence  apt  to  suppose,  that 
I-  there  is  a  difference  between  the  effects  which  result 
;    from   material    force,    and    those   which   arise   from 
If  thought  and  intelligence.  iBut  being  once  convinced 
/  that  we  know  nothing  farther  of  causation  of  any  kind 
/  than  merely  the  constant  conjunction  of  objects,  and  the 
I  consequent  inference  of  the  mind  from  one  to  another, 
and  finding  that  these  two  circumstances  are  univer- 
sally allowed  to  have  place  in  voluntary  actions ;  we 
may  be  more  easily  1^  to  own  the  same  necessity 
common  to  all  causes^    And  though  this  reasoning 
may  contradict  the  systems  of  many  philosophers,  in 
ascribing  necessity  to  the  determinations  of  the  will, 
we  shall  find,  upon  reflection,  that  they  dissent  from 
it  in  words  only,  not  in  their  real  sentiment.     Neces- 
sity, according  to  the  sense  in  which  it  is  here  taken, 
has  never  yet  been  rejected,  nor  can  ever,  I  think,  be 
rejected  by  any  philosopher.     It  may  only,  perhaps, 
be  pretended  that  the  mind  can  perceive,  in  the  opera- 
tions of  matter,  some  farther  connexion  between  the 
cause  and  effect ;  and  connexion  that  has  not  place  in 
voluntary  actions  of  intelligent  beings.    Now  whether 
it  be  so  or  not,  can  only  appear  upon  examination ; 
,^nd  it  is  incumbent  on  these  philosophers  to  make 
good  their  assertion,   by  defining  or  describing  that 
necessity,  and  pointing  it  out  to  us  in  the  operations 
of  material  causes. 

It  would  seem^indeed,  that  men  begin  at  the  wrong 
end  of  this  question  concerning  liberty  and  necessity, 
when  they  enter  upon  it  by  examining  the  faculties  of 
the  soul,  the  influence  of  the  understanding,  and  the 
operations  of  the  will.  iXet  them  first  discuss  a  more 
simple  question,  namely,  the  operations  of  body  and 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  97 

of  brute  unintelligent  matter ;  and  try  whether  theyj 
can  there  form  any  idea  of  causation  and  necessity, 
except  that  of  a  constant  conjunction  of  objects,  and 
subsequent  inference  of  the  mind  from  one  to  another. 
If  these  circumstances  form,  in  reality,  the  whole  of 
that  necessity,  which  we  conceive  in  matter,  and  if 
these  circumstances  be  also  universally  acknowledged 
to  take  place  in  the  operations  of  the  mind,  the  dis- 
pute is  at  an  end ;  at  least,  must  be  owned  to  be 
thenceforth  merely  verbal.  But  as  long  as  we  will 
rashly  suppose,  that  we  have  some  farther  idea  of 
necessity  and  causation  in  the  operations  of  external 
objects ;  at  the  same  time,  that  we  can  find  nothing 
farther  in  the  voluntary  actions  of  the  mind ;  there  is 
no  possibility  of  bringing  the  question  to  any  deter- 
minate issue,  while  we  proceed  upon  so  erroneous  a 
supposition.  The  only  method  of  undeceiving  us  is 
to  mount  up  higher ;  to  examine  the  narrow  extent  of 
science  when  applied  to  material  causes  ;  and  to  con- 
vince ourselves  that  all  we  know  of  them  is  the  con- 
stant conjunction  and  inference  above  mentioned.  We 
may,  perhaps,  find  that  it  is  with  difficulty  we  are  in- 
duced to  fix  such  narrow  limits  to  human  understand- 
ing :  But  we  can  afterwards  find  no  difficulty  when 
we  come  to  apply  this  doctrine  to  the  actions  of  the 
will.  For  as  it  is  evident  that  these  have  a  regular 
conjunction  with  motives  and  circumstances  and  char- 
acters, and  as  we  always  draw  inferences  from  one  to, 
the  other,  we  must  be  obliged  to  acknowledge  in  words 
that  necessity,  which  we  have  already  avowed,  in 
every  deliberation  of  our  lives,  and  in  every  step  of 
our  conduct  and  behaviour.^ 

1  The  prevalence  of  the  doctrine  of  liberty  may  be  accounted  for,  from 
another  cause,  viz.  a  false  sensation  or  seeming  experience  which  we  have, 


98  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERmNG 

But  to  proceed  in  this  reconciling  project  with  re- 
gard to  the  question  of  liberty  and  necessity ;  the  most 
contentious  question  of  metaphysics,  the  most  con- 
tentious science ;  it  will  not  require  many  words  to 
prove,  that  all  mankind  have  ever  agreed  in  the  doc- 
trine of  liberty  as  well  as  in  that  of  necessity,  and  that 
the  whole  dispute,  in  this  respect  also,  has  been  hith- 
erto merely  verbal.  For  what  is  meant  by  liberty, 
when  applied  to  voluntary  actions  ?  We  cannot  surely 
mean  that  actions  have  so  little  connexion  with  mo- 
tives, inclinations,  and  circumstances,  that  one  does 
not  follow  with  a  certain  degree  of  uniformity  from  the 
other,  and  that  one  affords  no  inference  by  which  we 
can  conclude  the  existence  of  the  other.   For  these  are 

or  may  have,  of  liberty  or  indifiference,  in  many  of  our  actions.  The  necessity 
of  any  action,  whether  of  matter  or  of  mind,  is  not,  properly  speaking,  a  qual- 
ity in  the  agent,  but  in  any  thinking  or  intelligent  being,  who  may  consider 
the  action ;  and  it  consists  chiefly  in  the  determination  of  his  thoughts  to 
infer  the  existence  of  that  action  from  some  preceding  objects;  as  liberty, 
when  opposed  to  necessity,  is  nothing  but  the  want  of  that  determination, 
and  a  certain  looseness  or  indifference,  which  we  feel,  in  passing,  or  not 
passing,  from  the  idea  of  one  object  to  that  of  any  succeeding  one.  Now  we 
may  observe,  that,  though,  in  reflecting  on  human  actions,  we  seldom  feel 
such  a  looseness,  or  indifference,  but  are  commonly  able  to  infer  them  with 
considerable  certainty  from  their  motives,  and  from  the  dispositions  of  the 
agent;  yet  it  frequently  happens,  that,  in /^^^w/«^  the  actions  themselves, 
we  are  sensible  of  something  like  it;  And  as  all  resembling  objects  are  readily 
taken  for  each  other,  this  has  been  employed  as  a  demonstrative  and  even 
intuitive  proof  of  human  liberty.  We  feel,  that  our  actions  are  subject  to  our 
will,  on  most  occasions;  and  imagine  we  feel,  that  the  will  itself  is  subject 
to  nothing,  because,  when  by  a  denial  of  it  we  are  provoked  to  try,  we  feeli 
that  it  moves  easily  every  way,  and  produces  an  image  of  itself  (or  a  Vellelty' 
as  it  is  called  in  the  schools)  even  on  that  side,  on  which  it  did  net  settle. 
This  image,  or  faint  motion,  we  persuade  ourselves,  could,  at  that  time,  have 
been  compleated  into  the  thing  itself;  because,  should  that  be  denied,  we 
find,  upon  a  second  trial,  that,  at  present,  it  can.  We  consider  not,  that  the 
fantastical  desire  of  jewing  liberty,  is  here  the  motive  of  our  actions.  And 
it  seems  certain,  thatJhowever  we  may  imagine  we  feel  a  liberty  within  our- 
selves, a  spectator  can  commonly  infer  our  actions  from  our  motives  and 
character;, 'and  even  where  he  cannot,  he  concludes  in  general,  that  he  might, 
were  he  perfectly  acquainted  with  every  circumstance  of  our  situation  and 
temper,  and  the  most  secret  springs  of  our  complexion  and  disposition.  Now 
this  is  the  very  essence  of  necessity,  according  to  the  foregoing  doctrine. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  99 

plain  and  acknowledged  matters  of  fact.  '^By  libert)^    V 
then,  we  can  only  mean  a  power  of  actingor  not  actingi 

according  to  the  determinations  of  the  wi/jhfjth.3it  is,  if  we 

choose  to  remain  at  rest,  we  may;  if  we~cEoosB^to 
ni6ve,"we  "al:Ba"may:~~"Nowl:^^  HypbTfietical  liberty  is 
universally  allowed  to  belong  to  every  one  who  is  not 
a  prisoner  and  in  chains.  Here,  then,  is  no  subject 
of  dispute. 

Whatever  definition  we  may  give  of  liberty,  we 
should  be  careful  to  observe  two  requisite  circum- 
stances ;  frst,  that  it  be  consistent  with  plain  matter 
of  fact ;  secondly y  that  it  be  consistent  with  itself.  If 
we  observe  these  circumstances,  and  render  our  defi- 
nition intelligible,  I  am  persuaded  that  all  mankind 
will  be  found  of  one  opinion  with  regard  to  it. 

|~It  is  universally  allowed  that  nothing  exists  with-    ^^'^  '. 
out  a  cause  of  its  existence,  and  that  chance,  wher  d^^^'T 
strictly  examined,  is  a  mere  negative  word,  and  means 
not  any  real  power  which  has  anywhere  a  being  in\ 
nature.  ]   But  it  is  pretended  that  some  causes  are  ne- 
cessary, some  not  necessary.     Here  then  is  the  ad- 
vantage of  definitions.     Let  any  one  define  a  cause, 
without  comprehending,  as  a  part  of  the  definition,  a 
necessary  connexion  with  its  effect ;  and  let  him  show 
distinctly  the  origin  of  the  idea,  expressed  by  the  defi- 
nition ;  and  I  shall  readily  give  up  the  whole  contro- 
versy.    But  if  the  foregoing  explication  of  the  matter 
be  received,   this  must  be  absolutely  impracticable. 
Had  not  objects  a  regular  conjunction  with  each  other, 
we  should  never  have  entertained  any  notion  of  cause 
and  effect ;  and  thia_regular  conjunction  produces  that 
inference  of  the  understanding,  which  is  the  only  con 
nexion,    that   we   can   have   any   comprehension   of. 
Whoever  attempts  a  definition  of  cause,  exclusive  of  ' 


tj    Ja^ 


loo  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

these  circumstances,  will  be  obliged  either  to  employ 
unintelligible  terms  or  such  as  are  synonymous  to 
the  term  which  he  endeavours  to  define.  ^  And  if  the 
definition  above  mentioned  be  admitted ;  liberty,  when 
opposed  to  necessity,  not  to  constxaint,  is  the  same 
thing  with  chance;  which  is  universally  allowed  to 
have  no  existence^ 

y^  Part  II. 

/  There  is  no  method  of  reasoning  more  common, 
and  yet  none  more  blameable,  than,  in  philosophical 
disputes,  to  endeavour  the  refutation  of  any  hypothe- 
sis, by  a  pretence  of  its  dangerous  consequences  to 
religion  and  morality.  |  When  any  opinion  leads  to 
absurdities,  it  is  certainly  false ;  but  it  is  not  certain 
that  an  opinion  is  false,  because  it  is  of  dangerous 
consequence.  Such  topics,  therefore,  ought  entirely 
to  be  forborne ;  as  serving  nothing  to  the  discov- 
ery of  truth,  but  only  to  make  the  person  of  an  antag- 
onist odious.  This  I  observe  in  general,  without 
pretending  to  draw  any  advantage  from  it.  I  frankly" 
submit  to  an  examination  of  this  kind,  and  shall  ven- 
ture to  affirm  that  the  doctrines,  both  of  necessity  and 
of  liberty,  as  above  explained,  are  not  only  consistent 
with  morality,  but  are  absolutely  essential  to  its 
support.  '  ^ 

Necessity  may  be  defined  two  ways,  conformably 

1  Thus,  if  a  cause  be  defined,  that  which  produces  any  thing;  it  is  easy  to 
observe,  that  producing  is  synonimous  to  causing.  In  like  manner,  if  a  cause 
be  defined,  that  by  which  any  thing  exists;  this  is  liable  to  the  same  objec- 
tion. For  what  is  meant  by  these  words,  by  which  ?  Had  it  been  said,  that  a 
cause  is  that  after  which  any  thing  constantly  exists;  we  should  have  under- 
stood the  terms.  For  this  is,  indeed,  all  we  know  of  the  matter.  And  this 
constancy  forms  the  very  essence  of  necessity,  nor  have  we  any  other  idea 
of  it. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  loi  . 

to  the  two  definitjpns  of  cause,  of  which  it  makes  an  .  -|  V^ 
essential   part.  [j[t_c^on^ists_ejther_ jnjthe_^  ^0^ 

conjunction  of  like  objects,  or  in  the  inference  of  the^ 
understanding  from  one  object  to  another.  Now  ne- 
cessity, in  both  these  senses,  (which,  indeed,  are  at 
bottom  the  same)  has  universally,  though  tacitly,  in 
the  schools,  in  the  pulpit,  and  in  common  life,  been 
allowed  to  belong  to  the  will  of  man ;  and  no  one  has 
ever  pretended  to  deny  that  we  can  draw  inferences 
concerning  human  actions,  and  that  those  inferences « 
are  founded  on  the  experienced  union  of  like  actions, 
with  like  motives,  inclinations,  and  circumstances. 
The  only  particular  in  which  any  one  can  differ,  is, 
that  either,  perhaps,  he  will  refuse  to  give  the  name 
of  necessity  to  this  property  of  human  actions:  But 
as  long  as  the  meaning  is  understood,  I  hope  the  word 
can  do  no  harm  :  Or  that  he  will  maintain  it  possible 
to  discover  something  farther  in  the  operations  of 
matter.  But  this,  it  must  be  acknowledged,  can  be 
of  no  consequence  to  morality  or  religion,  whatever  it 
may  be  to  natural  philosophy  or  metaphysics.  We 
may  here  be  mistaken  in  asserting  that  there  is  no  idea 
of  any  other  necessity  or  connexion  in  the  actions  of 
body :  But  surely  we  ascribe  nothing  to  the  actions 
of  the  mind,  but  what  everyone  does,  and  must  readily 
allow  of.  We  change  no  circumstance  in  the  received 
orthodox  system  with  regard  to  the  will,  but  only  in 
that  with  regard  to  material  objects  and  causes.  Noth- 
ing, therefore,  can  be  more  innocent,  at  least,  than 
this  doctrine. 

All  laws  being  founded  on  rewards  and  punish- 
ments, it  is  supposed  as  a  fundamental  principle,  that 
these  motives  have  a  regular  and  uniform  influence  on 
the  mind,  and  both  produce  the  good  and  prevent  the 


io2  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

evil  actions.  We  may  give  to  this  influence  what 
name  we  please  \  but,  as  it  is  usually  conjoined  with 
the  action,  it  must  be  esteemed  a  cause,  and  be  looked 
upon  as  an  instance  of  that  necessity,  which  we  would 
here  establish. 

The  only  proper  object  of  hatred  or  vengeance  is 
a  person  or  creature,  endowed  with  thought  and  con- 
sciousness ;  and  when  any  criminal  or  injurious  ac- 
tions excite  that  passion,  it  is  only  by  their  relation  to 
the  person,  or  connexion  with  him.  /'Actions  are,  by 
their  very  nature,  temporary  and  perishing ;  and 
where  they  proceed  not  from  some  cause  in  the  char- 
acter and  disposition  of  the  person  who  performed 
them,  they  can  neither  redound  to  his  honour,  if  good; 
nor  infamy,  if  evil.  The  actions  themselves  may  be 
blameable;  they  may  be  contrary  to  all  the  rules  of 
morality  and  religion  :  But  the  person  is  not  answer- 
able for  them  ;  and  as  they  proceeded  from  nothing  in 
him  that  is  durable  and  constant,  and  leave  nothing 
of  that  nature  behind  them,  it  is  impossible  he  can, 
upon  their  account,  become  the  object  of  punishment 
^  or  vengeance.  According  to  the  principle,  therefore, 
which  denies  necessity,  and  consequently  causes,  a 
man  is  as  pure  and  untainted,  after  having  committed 
the  most  horrid  crime,  as  at  the  first  moment  of  his 
birth,  nor  is  his  character  anywise  concerned  in  his 
actions,  since  they  are  not  derived  from  it,  and  the 
wickedness  of  the  one  can  never  be  used  as  a  proof  of 
the  depravity  of  the  other. 

Men  are  not  blamed  for  such  actions  as  they  per- 
form ignorantly  and  casually,  whatever  may  be  the 
consequences.  Why  ?  but  because  the  principles  of 
these  actions  are  only  momentary,  and  terminate  in 
them  alone.     Men  are  less  blamed  for  such  actions  as 


HUMAN-  UNDERSTANDING.  103 

they  perform  hastily  and  unpremeditately  than  for  such 
as  proceed  from  deliberation.  For  what  reason  ?  but 
because  a  hast}'  temper,  though  a  constant  cause  or 
principle  in  the  mind,  operates  only  by  intervals,  and 
infects  not  the  whole  character.  Again,  repentance 
wipes  off  every  crime,  if  attended  with  a  reformation 
of  life  and  manners.  How  is  this  to  be  accounted  for? 
but  by  asserting  that  actions  render  a  person  criminal 
merely  as  they  are  proofs  of  criminal  principles  in  the 
mind;  and  when,  by  an  alteration  of  these  principles, 
they  cease  to  be  just  proofs,  they  likewise  cease  to  be 
iriminal.  But,  except  upon  the  doctrine  of  necessity, 
they  never  were  just  proofs,  and  consequently  never 
were  criminal. 

It  will  be  equally  easy  to  prove,  and  from  the  same 
arguments,  that  liberty^  according  to  that  definition 
above  mentioned,  in  which  all  men  agree,  is  also  es- 
sential to  morality,  and  that  no  human  actions,  where 
it  is  wanting,  are  susceptible  of  any  moral  qualities, 
or  can  be  the  objects  either  of  approbation  or  dislike. 
For  as  actions  are  objects  of  our  moral  sentiment,  so 
far  only  as  they  are  indications  of  the  internal  char- 
acter, passions,  and  affections ;  it  is  impossible  that 
they  can  give  rise  either  to  praise  or  blame,  where 
they  proceed  not  from  these  principles,  but  are  derived 
altogether  frem  external  violence. 

I  pretend  not  to  have  obviated  or  removed  all  ob- 
jections to.  this  theory,  with  regard  to  necessity  and 
liberty.  I  can  foresee  other  objections,  derived  from 
topics  which  have  not  here  been  treated  of.  It  may 
be  said,  for  instance,  that,  if  voluntary  actions  be  sub- 
jected to  the  same  laws  of  necessity  with  the  operations 
of  matter,  there  is  a  continued  chain  of  necessary 
causes,    pre-ordained   and   pre-determined,    reaching 


I04  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

from  the  original  cause  of  all  to  every  single  volition 
of  every  human  creature.  No  contingency  anywhere 
in  the  universe  \  no  indifference ;  no  liberty.  While 
we  act,  we  are,  at  the  same  time,  acted  upon.  The 
ultimate  Author  of  all  our  volitions  is  the  Creator  of 
the  world,  who  first  bestowed  motion  on  this  immense 
machine,  and  placed  all  beings  in  that  particular 
position,  whence  every  subsequent  event,  by  an  in- 
evitable necessity,  must  result.  Human  actions, 
therefore,  either  can  have  no  moral  turpitude  at  all,  as 
proceeding  from  so  good  a  cause ;  or  if  they  have  any 
turpitude,  they  must  involve  our  Creator  in  the  same 
guilt,  while  he  is  acknowledged  to  be  their  ultimate 
cause  and  author.  For  as  a  man,  who  fired  a  mine, 
is  answerable  for  all  the  consequences  whether  the 
train  he  employed  be  long  or  short ;  so  wherever  a 
continued  chain  of  necessary  causes  is  fixed,  that  Be- 
ing, either  finite  or  infinite,  who  produces  the  first,  is 
likewise  the  author  of  all  the  rest,  and  must  both  bear 
the  blame  and  acquire  the  praise  which  belong  to  them. 
Our  clear  and  unalterable  ideas  of  morality  establish 
this  rule,  upon  unquestionable  reasons,  when  we  ex- 
amine the  consequences  of  any  human  action ;  and 
these  reasons  must  still  have  greater  force  when  ap- 
plied to  the  volitions  and  intentions  of  a  Being  infi- 
nitely wise  and  powerful.  Ignorance  or  impotence 
may  be  pleaded  for  so  limited  a  creature  as  man ;  but 
those  imperfections  have  no  place  in  our  Creator.  He 
foresaw,  he  ordained,  he  intended  all  those  actions  of 
men,  which  we  so  rashly  pronounce  criminal.  And  we 
must  therefore  conclude,  either  that  they  are  not  crim- 
inal, or  that  the  Deity,  not  man,  is  accountable  for 
them.  But  as  either  of  these  positions  is  absurd  and 
impious,  it  follows,  that  the  doctrine  from  which  they 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  105 

are  deduced  cannot  possibly  be  true,  as  being  liable 
to  all  the  same  objections.  An  absurd  consequence, 
if  necessary,  proves  the  original  doctrine  to  be  absurd ; 
in  the  same  manner  as  criminal  actions  render  crim- 
inal the  original  cause,  if  the  connexion  between  them 
be  necessary  and  evitable. 

This  objection  consists  of  two  parts,  which  we  shall 
examine  separately ;  First,  that,  if  human  actions  can 
be  traced  up,  by  a  necessary  chain,  to  the  Deity,  they 
can  never  be  criminal  \  on  account  of  the  infinite  per- 
fection of  that  Being  from  whom  they  are  derived, 
and  who  can  intend  nothing  but  what  is  altogether 
good  and  laudable.  Or,  Secondly,  if  they  be  criminal, 
we  must  retract  the  attribute  of  perfection,  which  we 
ascribe  to  the  Deity,  and  must  acknowledge  him  to 
be  the  ultimate  author  of  guilt  and  moral  turpitude  in 
all  his  creatures. 

The  answer  to  the  first  objection  seems  obvious 
and  convincing.  There  are  many  philosophers  who, 
after  an  exact  scrutiny  of  all  the  phenomena  of  nature, 
conclude,  that  the  whole,  considered  as  one  system, 
is,  in  every  period  of  its  existence,  ordered  with  per- 
fect benevolence;  and  that  the  utmost  possible  happi- 
ness will,  in  the  end,  result  to  all  created  beings,  with- 
out any  mixture  of  positive  or  absolute  ill  or  misery. 
Every  physical  ill,  say  they,  makes  an  essential  part 
of  this  benevolent  system,  and  could  not  possibly  be 
removed,  even  by  the  Deity  himself,  considered  as  a 
wise  agent,  without  giving  entrance  to  greater  ill,  or 
excluding  greater  good,  which  will  result  from  it. 
From  this  theory,  some  philosophers,  and  the  ancient 
Stoics  among  the  rest,  derived  a  topic  of  consolation 
under  all  afflictions,  while  they  taught  their  pupils 
that  those  ills  under  which  they  laboured  were,  in  real- 


io6  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

ity,  goods  to  the  universe;  and  that  to  an  enlarged 
view,  which  could  comprehend  the  whole  system  of 
nature,  every  event  became  an  object  of  joy  and  exul- 
tation. But  though  this  topic  be  specious  and  sub- 
lime, it  was  soon  found  in  practice  weak  and  ineffec- 
tual. You  would  surely  more  irritate  than  appease  a 
man  lying  under  the  racking  pains  of  the  gout  by 
preaching  up  to  him  the  rectitude  of  those  general 
laws,  which  produced  the  malignant  humours  in  his 
body,  and  led  them  through  the  proper  canals,  to  the 
sinews  and  nerves,  where  they  now  excite  such  acute 
torments.  These  enlarged  views  may,  for  a  moment, 
please  the  imagination  of  a  speculative  man,  who  is 
placed  in  ease  and  security;  but  neither  can  they  dwell 
with  constancy  on  his  mind,  even  though  undisturbed 
by  the  emotions  of  pain  or  passion;  much  less  can 
they  maintain  their  ground  when  attacked  by  such 
powerful  antagonists.  The  affections  take  a  narrower 
and  more  natural  survey  of  their  object ;  and  by  an 
economy,  more  suitable  to  the  infirmity  of  human 
minds,  regard  alone  the  beings  around  us,  and  are 
actuated  by  such  events  as  appear  good  or  ill  to  the 
private  system. 

The  case  is  the  same  with  moral  as  with  physical  ill. 
It  cannot  reasonably  be  supposed,  that  those  remote 
considerations,  which  are  found  of  so  little  efficacy 
with  regard  to  one,  will  have  a  more  powerful  influ- 
ence with  regard  to  the  other.  The  mind  of  man  is 
so  formed  by  nature  that,  upon  the  appearance  of  cer- 
tain characters,  dispositions,  and  actions,  it  immedi- 
ately feels  the  sentiment  of  approbation  or  blame;  nor 
are  there  any  emotions  more  essential  to  its  frame  and 
constitution.  jThe  characters  which  engage  our  ap- 
probation are  cHiefly  such  as  contribute  to  the  peace 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  107 

and  security  of  human  society;  as  the  characters  which 
excite  blame  are  chiefly  such  as  tend  to  public  detri- 
ment and  disturbance  ^Whence  it  may  reasonably  be 
presumed,  that  the  rfioral  sentiments  arise,  either  me- 
diately or  immediately,  from  a  reflection  of  these  op- 
posite interests.  What  though  philosophical  medita- 
tions establish  a  different  opinion  or  conjecture  ;  that 
everything  is  right  with  regard  to  the  whole,  and  that 
the  qualities,  which  disturb  society,  are,  in  the  main, 
as  beneficial,  and  are  as  suitable  to  the  primary  in- 
tention of  nature  as  those  which  more  directly  pro- 
mote its  happiness  and  welfare?  Are  such  remote  and 
uncertain  speculations  able  to  counterbalance  the  sen- 
timents which  arise  from  the  natural  and  immediate 
view  of  the  objects?  A  man  who  is  robbed  of  a  con- 
siderable sum ;  does  he  find  his  vexation  for  the  loss 
anywise  diminished  by  these  sublime  reflections?  Why 
then  should  his  moral  resentment  against  the  crime 
be  supposed  incompatible  with  them?  Or  why  should 
not  the  acknowledgment  of  a  real  distinction  between 
vice  and  virtue  be  reconcileable  to  all  speculative  sys- 
tems of  philosophy,  as  well  as  that  of  a  real  distinction 
between  personal  beauty  and  deformity?  Both  these 
distinctions  are  founded  in  the  natural  sentiments  of 
the  human  mind:  And  these  sentiments  are  not  to 
be  controuled  or  altered  by  any  philosophical  theory 
or  speculation  whatsoever. 

The  second  objection  admits  not  of  so  easy  and  sat- 
isfactory an  answer ;  nor  is  it  possible  to  explain  dis- 
tinctly, how  the  Deity  can  be  the  mediate  cause  of  all 
the  actions  of  men,  without  being  the  author  of  sin 
and  moral  turpitude.  These  are  mysteries,  which  mere 
natural  and  unassisted  reason  is  very  unfit  to  handle ; 
and  whatever  system  she  embraces,  she  must  find  her- 


zo8 

self  involved  in  inextricable  difficulties,  and  even  con- 
tradictions, at  every  step  which  she  takes  with  regard 
to  such  subjects.  To  reconcile  the  indifference  and 
contingency  of  human  actions  with  prescience;  or  to 
defend  absolute  decrees,  and  yet  free  the  Deity  from 
being  the  author  of  sin,  has  been  found  hitherto  to  ex- 
ceed all  the  power  of  philosophy.  Happy,  if  she  be 
thence  sensible  of  her  temerity,  when  she  pries  into 
these  sublime  mysteries ;  and  leaving  a  scene  so  full 
of  obscurities  and  perplexities,  return,  with  suitable 
modesty,  to  her  true  and  proper  province,  the  exami- 
nation of  common  life;  where  she  will  find  difficulties 
enough  to  employ  her  enquiries,  without  launching 
into  so  boundless  an  ocean  of  doubt,  uncertainty,  and 
contradiction ! 


N. 


SECTION  IX. 

OF  THE  REASON  OF  ANIMALS 

/  /\LL  our  reasonings  concerning  matter  of  fact  are 
jTJl.  founded  on  a  species  of  Analogy  which  leads  us 
to  expect  from  any  cause  the  same  events,  which  we 
have  observed  to  result  from  similar  causes,  j  Where 
the  causes  are  entirely  similar,  the  analogyls  perfect, 
and  the  inference,  drawn  from  it,  is  regarded  as  cer- 
tain and  conclusive:  nor  does  any  man  ever  entertain 
a  doubt,  when  he  sees  a  piece  of  iron,  that  it  will  have 
weight  and  cohesion  of  parts;  as  in  all  other  instances, 
which  have  ever  fallen  under  his  observation.  But 
where  the  objects  have  not  so  exact  a  similarity,  the 
analogy  is  less  perfect,  and  the  inference  is  less  con- 
clusive ;  though  still  it  has  some  force,  in  proportion 
to  the  degree  of  similarity  and  resemblance.  The  ana- 
tomical observations,  formed  upon  one  animal,  are, 
by  this  species  of  reasoning,  extended  to  all  animals; 
and  it  is  certain,  that  when  the  circulation  of  the  blood, 
for  instance,  is  clearly  proved  to  have  place  in  one 
creature,  as  a  frog,  or  fish,  it  forms  a  strong  presump- 
tion, that  the  same  principle  has  place  in  all.  These 
analogical  observations  may  be  carried  farther,  even 
to  this  science,  of  which  we  are  now  treating;  and 
any  theory,  by  which  we  explain  the  operations  of  the 
understanding,  or  the  origin  and  connexion  of  the 
passions  in  man,  will  acquire  additional  authority,  if 
we  find,  that  the  same  theory  is  requisite  to  explain 


no  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

the  same  phenomena  In  all  other  animals.  We  shall 
make  trial  of  this,  with  regard  to  the  hypothesis,  by 
which  we  have,  in  the  foregoing  discourse,  endeav- 
oured to  account  for  all  experimental  reasonings;  and 
it  is  hoped,  that  this  new  point  of  view  will  serve  to 
confirm  all  our  former  observations. 

First,  It  seems  evident,  that  animals  as  well  as  men 
learnltnany  things  from  experience,  and  infer,  that  the 
same  events  will  always  follow  from  the  same  causes. 
By  this  principle  they  become  acquainted  with  the 
more  obvious  properties  of  external  objects,  and  grad- 
ually, from  their  birth,  treasure  up  a  knowledge  of  the 
nature  of  fire,  water,  earth,  stones,  heights,  depths, 
&c.,  and  of  the  effects  which  result  from  their  opera- 
tion. The  ignorance  and  inexperience  of  the  young 
are  here  plainly  distinguishable  from  the  cunning  and 
sagacity  of  the  old,  who  have  learned,  by  long  obser- 
vation, to  avoid  what  hurt  them,  and  to  pursue  what 
gave  ease  or  pleasure.  A  horse,  that  has  been  accus- 
tomed to  the  field,  becomes  acquainted  with  the  proper 
height  which  he  can  leap,  and  will  never  attempt  what 
exceeds  his  force  and  ability.  An  old  greyhound  will 
trust  the  more  fatiguing  part  of  the  chace  to  the 
younger,  and  will  place  himself  so  as  to  meet  the  hare 
in  her  doubles;  nor  are  the  conjectures,  which  he 
forms  on  this  occasion,  founded  in  any  thing  but  his 
observation  and  experience. 

This  is  still  more  evident  from  the  effects  of  disci- 
pline and  education  on  animals,  who,  by  the  proper 
application  of  rewards  and  punishments,  may  be  taught 
any  course  of  action,  and  most  contrary  to  their  natu- 
ral instincts  and  propensities.  Is  it  not  experience, 
which  renders  a  dog  apprehensive  of  pain,  when  you 
menace  him,  or  lift  up  the  whip  to  beat  him  ?     Is  it 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  iii 

not  even  experience,  which  makes  him  answer  to  his 
name,  and  infer,  from  such  an  arbitrary  sound,  that 
you  mean  him  rather  than  any  of  his  fellows,  and  in- 
tend to  call  him,  when  you  pronounce  it  in  a  certain 
manner,  and  with  a  certain  tone  and  accent? 

J'  In  all  these  cases,  we  may  observe,  that  the  animal 
fers  some  fact  beyond  what  immediately  strikes  his 
senses ;  and  that  this  inference  is  altogether  founded 
on  past  experience,  while  the  creature  expects  from 
the  present  object  the  same  consequences,  which  it  has 
always  found  in  its  observation  to  result  from  similar 
objects. \  ^"^ 

Secondly,  It  is  impossible,  that  this  inference  of  the 
animal  can  be  founded  on  any  process  of  argument  or 
reasoning,    by  which  he  concludes,   that  like  events 
must  follow  like  objects,  and  that  the  course  of  nature 
will  always  be  regular  in  its  operations.     For  if  there 
be  in  reality  any  arguments  of  this  nature,  they  surely 
lie  too  abstruse  for  the  observation  of  such  imperfect 
understandings ;  since  it  may  well  employ  the  utmost 
care  and  attention  of  a  philosophic  genius  to  discover 
and  observe  them./  Animals,  therefore,  are  not  guided 
in  these  inferences  by  reasoning :    Neither  are  chil- 
dren :  Neither  are  the  generality  of  mankind,  in  their 
ordinary  actions  and  conclusions  :  Neither  are  philos- 
ophers themselves,  who,  in  all  the  active  parts  of  life, 
are^iri_the  main,  the  same  with  the  vulgar,  and  are     , 
governed  by  the  same  maxims.     Nature  must  have^ 
provided  some  other  principle,  ""of  more  ready,   and  I 
more  general  use  and  application;!  nor  can  an  opera-    \ 
tion  of  such  immense  consequence  in  life,  as  that  of    \ 
inferring  effects  from  causes,  be  trusted  to  the  uncer-      ] 
tain  process  of  reasoning  and  argumentation.  \    Were 
this  doubtful  with  regard  to  men,  it  seems  to'admit  oi 


II 


IZ2  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

no  question  with  regard  to  the  brute  creation ;  and 
the  conclusion  being  once  firmly  established  in  the 
one,  we  have  a  strong  presumption,  from  all  the  rules 
of  analogy,  that  it  ought  to  be  universally  admitted, 
without  any  exception  or  reserve,  ^t  is  custom  aloneJ 
which  engages  animals,  from  every  o^ject^tTiat'strikes 
their  senses,  to  infer  its  usual  attendant,  and  carries 
their  imagination,  from  the  appearance  of  the  one,  to 
conceive  the  other,  in  that  particular  manner,  which 
we  denominate  belief.  No  other  explication  can  be 
given  of  this  op^ation,  in  all  the  higher,  as  well  as 
lower  classes  of  sensitive  beings,  which  fall  under  our 
notice  and  observation.^ 

1  Since  all  reasonings  concerning  facts  or  causes  is  derived  merely  from 
custom,  it  may  be  asked  how  it  happens,  that  men  so  much  surpass  animals 
in  reasoning,  and  one  man  so  much  surpasses  another?  Has  not  the  same 
custom  the  same  influence  on  all? 

We  shall  here  endeavour  briefly  to  explain  the  great  difiference  in  human 
understandings:  After  which  the  reason  of  the  difference  between  men  and 
animals  will  easily  be  comprehended. 

1.  When  we  have  lived  any  time,  and  have  been  accustomed  to  the  uni- 
formity of  nature,  we  acquire  a  general  habit,  by  which  we  always  transfer 
the  known  to  the  unknown,  and  conceive  the  latter  to  resemble  the  former. 
By  means  of  this  general  habitual  principle,  we  regard  even  one  experiment 
as  the  foundation  of  reasoning,  and  expect  a  similar  event  with  some  degree 
of  certainty,  where  the  experiment  has  been  made  accurately,  and  free  from 
all  foreign  circumstances.  It  is  therefore  considered  as  a  matter  of  great 
importance  to  observe  the  consequences  of  things;  and  as  one  man  may  very 
much  surpass  another  in  attention  and  memory  and  observation,  this  will 
make  a  very  great  difiference  in  their  reasoning. 

2.  Where  there  is  a  complication  of  causes  to  produce  any  effect,  one 
mind  may  be  much  larger  than  another,  and  better  able  to  comprehend  the 
whole  system  of  objects,  and  to  infer  justly  their  consequences. 

3.  One  man  is  able  to  carry  on  a  chain  of  consequences  to  a  greater 
length  than  another. 

4.  Few  men  can  think  long  without  running  into  a  confusion  of  ideas, 
and  mistaking  one  for  another;  and  there  are  various  degrees  of  this  in- 
firmity. 

5.  The  circumstance,  on  which  the  effect  depends,  is  frequently  involved 
in  other  circumstances,  which  are  foreign  and  extrinsic.  The  separation  of 
it  often  requires  great  attention,  accuracy,  and  subtilty. 

6.  The  forming  of  general  maxims  from  particular  observation  is  a  very 
nice  operation ;  and  nothing  is  more  usual,  from  haste  or  narrowness  of  mind 
which  sees  not  on  all  sides,  than  to  commit  mistakes  in  this  particular. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  113 

But  though  animals  learn  many  parts  of  their 
knowledge  from  observation,  there  are  also  many  parts 
of  it,  which  they  derive  from  the  original  hand  of  nature; 
which  much  exceed  the  share  of  capacity  they  possess 
on  ordinary  occasions ;  and  in  which  they  improve, 
little  or  nothing,  by  the  longest  practice  and  experi- 
ence. These  we  denominate  Instincts,  and  are  so  apt 
to  admire  as  something  very  extraordinary,  and  inexpli- 
cable by  all  the  disquisitions  of  human  understanding. 
But  our  wonder  will,  perhaps,  cease  or  diminish,  when 
we  consider,  that  the  experimental  reasoning  itself, 
which  we  possess  in  common  with  beasts,  and  on 
which  the  whole  conduct  of  life  depends,  is  nothing 
but  a  species  of  instinct  or  mechanical  power,  that 
acts  in  us  unknown  to  ourselves ;  and  in  its  chief  op- 
erations, is  not  directed  by  any  such  relations  or  com- 
parisons of  ideas,  as  are  the  proper  objects  of  our  in- 
tellectual faculties.  Though  the  instinct  be  different, 
yet  still  it  is  an  instinct,  which  teaches  a  man  to  avoid 
the  fire ;  as  much  as  that,  which  teaches  a  bird,  with 
such  exactness,  the  art  of  incubation,  and  the  whole 
economy  and  order  of  its  nursery. 

7.  When  we  reason  from  analogies,  the  man,  who  has  the  greater  expe- 
rience or  the  greater  promptitude  of  suggesting  analogies,  will  be  the  better 
reasoner. 

8.  Byasses  from  prejudice,  education,  passion,  party,  &c.,  hang  more 
upon  one  mind  than  another. 

9.  After  we  have  acquired  a  confidence  in  human  testimony,  books  and 
conversation  enlarge  much  more  the  sphere  of  one  man's  experience  and 
thought  than  those  of  another. 

It  would  be  easy  to  discover  many  other  circumstances  that  make  a  dif* 
ference  in  the  understandings  of  men. 


SECTION  X 

OF  MIRACLES. 
Part  I. 

THERE  is,  in  Dr.  Tillotson's  writings,  an  argument 
against  the  real  presence,  which  is  as  concise,  and 
elegant,  and  strong  as  any  argument  can  possibly  be 
supposed  against  a  doctrine,  so  little  worthy  of  a  seri- 
ous refutation.  It  is  acknowledged  on  all  hands,  says 
that  learned  prelate,  that  the  authority,  either  of  the 
scripture  or  of  tradition,  is  founded  merely  in  the  tes- 
timony of  the  apostles,  who  were  eye-witnesses  to 
those  miracles  of  our  Saviour,  by  which  he  proved  his 
divine  mission.  Our  evidence,  then,  for  the  truth  of 
the  Christian  religion  is  less  than  the  evidence  for  the 
truth  of  our  senses ;  because,  even  in  the  first  authors 
of  our  religion,  it  was  no  greater ;  and  it  is  evident  it 
must  diminish  in  passing  from  them  to  their  disciples; 
nor  can  any  one  rest  such  confidence  in  their  testi- 
mony, as  in  the  immediate  object  of  his  senses.  But 
a  weaker  evidence  can  never  destroy  a  stronger;  and 
therefore,  were  the  doctrine  of  the  real  presence  ever 
so  clearly  revealed  in  scripture,  it  were  directly  con- 
trary to  the  rules  of  just  reasoning  to  give  our  assent 
to  it.  It  contradicts  sense,  though  both  the  scripture 
and  tradition,  on  which  it  is  supposed  to  be  built, 
carry  not  such  evidence  with  them  as  sense;  when  they 
are  considered  merely  as  external  evidences,  and  are 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  115 

not  brought  home  to  every  one's  breast,  by  the  imme- 
diate operation  of  the  Holy  Spirit. 

Nothing  is  so  convenient  as  a  decisive  argument  of 
this  kind,  which  must  at  least  silence  the  most  arrogant 
bigotry  and  superstition,  and  free  us  from  their  imper- 
tinent solicitations.  I  flatter  myself,  that  I  have  dis- 
covered an  argument  of  a  like  nature,  which,  if  just, 
will,  with  the  wise  and  learned,  be  an  everlasting  check 
to  all  kinds  of  superstitious  delusion,  and  conse- 
quently, will  be  useful  as  long  as  the  world  endures. 
For  so  long,  I  presume,  will  the  accounts  of  miracles 
and  prodigies  be  found  in  all  history,  sacred  and  pro- 
fane. 

/  Though  experience  be  our  only  guide  in  reasoning 
concerning  matters  of  fact ;  it  must  be  acknowledged, 
that  this  guide  is  not  altogether  infallible,  but  in  some^ 
cases  is  apt  to  lead  us  into  errors.  One,  who  in  our 
climate,  should  expect  better  weather  in  any  week  of 
June  than  in  one  of  December,  would  reason  justly, 
and  conformably  to  experience ;  but  it  is  certain,  that 
he  may  happen,  in  the  event,  to  find  himself  mistaken. 
However,  we  may  observe,  that,  in  such  a  case,  he 
would  have  no  cause  to  complain  of  experience ;  be- 
cause it  commonly  informs  us  beforehand  of  the  un- 
certainty, by  that  contrariety  of  events,  which  we  may 
learn  from  a  diligent  observation.  All  effects  follow 
not  with  like  certainty  from  their  supposed  causes. 
Some  events  are  found,  in  all  countries  and  all  ages, 
to  have  been  constantly  conjoined  together :  Others 
are  found  to  have  been  more  variable,  and  sometimes 
to  disappoint  our  expectations;  so  that,  in  our  reason- 
ings concerning  matter  of  fact,  there  are  all  imaginable 
degrees  of  assurance,  from  the  highest  certainty  to  the 
lowest  species  of  moral  evidence. 


1 16  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

A  wise  man,  therefore,  proportions  his  belief  to  the 
evidence.  In  such  conclusions  as  are  founded  on  an 
infallible  experience,  he  expects  the  event  with  the  last 
degree  of  assurance,  and  regards  his  past  experience 
as  a  full  proof  of  the  future  existence  of  that  event. 
In  other  cases,  he  proceeds  with  more  caution  :  He 
weighs  the  opposite  experiments :  He  considers 
which  side  is  supported  by  the  greater  number  of  ex- 
periments :  to  that  side  he  inclines,  with  doubt  and 
hesitation;  and  when  at  last  he  fixes  his  judgement, 
the  evidence  exceeds  not  what  we  properly  call  prob- 
ability.  All  probability,  then,  supposes  an  opposition 
of  experiments  and  observations,  where  the  one  side 
is  found  to  overbalance  the  other,  and  to  produce  a 
degree  of  evidence,  proportioned  to  the  superiority. 
A  hundred  instances  or  experiments  on  one  side,  and 
fifty  on  another,  afford  a  doubtful  expectation  of  any 
event ;  though  a  hundred  uniform  experiments,  with 
only  one  that  is  contradictory,  reasonably  begets  a 
pretty  strong  degree  of  assurance.  In  all  cases,  we 
must  balance  the  opposite  experiments,  where  they 
are  opposite,  and  deduct  the  smaller  number  from  the 
greater,  in  order  to  know  the  exact  force  of  the  supe- 
rior evidence. 

To  apply  these  principles  to  a  particular  instance ; 
we  may  observe,  that  there  is  no  species  of  reasoning 
more  common,  more  useful,  and  even  necessary  to 
human  life,  than  that  which  is  derived  from  the  testi- 
mony of  men,  and  the  reports  of  eye-witnesses  and 
spectators.  This  species  of  reasoning,  perhaps,  one 
may  deny  to  be  founded  on  the  relation  of  cause  and 
effect.  I  shall  not  dispute  about  a  word.  It  will  be 
sufficient  to  observe  that  our  assurance  in  any  argu- 
ment of  this  kind  is  derived  from  no  other  principle 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  117 

than  our  observation  of  the  veracity  of  human  testi- 
mony, and  of  the  usual  conformity  of  facts  to  the  re- 
ports of  witnesses.  It  being  a  general  maxim,  that 
no  objects  have  any  discoverable  connexion  together, 
and  that  all  the  inferences,  which  we  can  draw  from 
one  to  another,  are  founded  merely  on  our  experience 
of  their  constant  and  regular  conjunction ;  it  is  evi- 
dent^ that  we  ought  not  to  make  an  exception  to  this 
maxim  in  favour  of  human  testimony,  whose  connexion 
with  any  event  seems,  in  itself,  as  little  necessary  as 
any  other.  Were  not  the  memory  tenacious  to  a  cer- 
tain degree;  had  not  men  commonly  an  inclination  to 
truth  and  a  principle  of  probity,  were  they  not  sensible 
to  shame,  when  detected  in  a  falsehood  :  Were  not 
these,  I  say,  discovered  by  experience  to  be  qualities, 
inherent  in  human  nature,  we  should  never  repose  the 
least  confidence  in  human  testimony.  A  man  deliri- 
ous, or  noted  for  falsehood  and  villany,  has  no  manner 
of  authority  with  us. 

And  as  the  evidence,  derived  from  witnesses  and 
human  testimony,  is  founded  on  past  experience,  so  it 
varies  with  the  experience,  and  is  regarded  either  as 
proof  QX.  di.  probability i  according  as  the  conjunction  be- 
tween any  particular  kind  of  report  and  any  kind  of 
object  has  been  found  to  be  constant  or  variable.  / 
There  are  a  number  of  circumstances  to  be  taken  into 
consideration  in  all  judgements  of  this  kind  ;  and  the 
ultimate  standard,  by  which  we  determine  all  disputes, 
that  may  arise  concerning  them,  is  always  derived  from 
experience  and  observation.  Where  this  experience 
is  not  entirely  uniform  on  any  side,  it  is  attended  with 
an  unavoidable  contrariety  in  our  judgements,  and 
with  the  same  opposition  and  mutual  destruction  of 
argument  as  in  every  other  kind  of  evidence.   We  fre- 


ii8  AN  ENQ UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

quently  hesitate  concerning  the  reports  of  others.  We 
balance  the  opposite  circumstances,  which  cause  any 
doubt  or  uncertainty;  and  when  we  discover  a  superi- 
ority on  one  side,  we  incline  to  it;  but  still  with  a 
diminution  of  assurance,  in  proportion  to  the  force  of 
its  antagonist. 

.  This  contrariety  of  evidence,  in  the  present  case, 
may  be  derived  from  several  different  causes;  from  the 
opposition  of  contrary  testimony ;  from  the  character 
or  number  of  the  witnesses ;  from  the  manner  of  their 
delivering  their  testimony;  or  from  the  union  of  all 
these  circumstances.  We  entertain  a  suspicion  con- 
cerning any  matter  of  fact,  when  the  witnesses  con- 
tradict each  other;  when  they  are  but  few,  or  of  a 
doubtful  character;  when  they  have  an  interest  in 
what  they  affirm ;  when  they  deliver  their  testimony 
with  hesitation,  or  on  the  contrary,  with  too  violent 
asseverations.  There  are  many  other  particulars  of 
the  same  kind,  which  may  diminish  ar  destroy  the 
force  of  any  argument,  derived  from  human  testimony. 
Suppose,  for  instance,  that  the  fact,  which  the  tes- 
timony endeavours  to  establish,  partakes  of  the  extra- 
ordinary and  the  marvellous;  in  that  case,  the  evidence, 
resulting  from  the  testimony,  admits  of  a  diminution, 
greater  or  less,  in  proportion  as  the  fact  is  more  or  less 
unusual.  The  reason  why  we  place  any  credit  in  wit- 
nesses and  historians,  is  not  derived  from  any  connex- 
ion, which  we  perceive  a  priori,  between  testimony  and 
reality,  but  because  we  are  accustomed  to  find  a  con- 
formity between  them.  But  when  the  fact  attested  is 
such  a  one  as  has  seldom  fallen  under  our  observation, 
here  is  a  contest  of  two  opposite  experiences;  of  which 
the  one  destroys  the  other,  as  far  as  its  force  goes, 
and  the  superior  can  only  operate  on  the  mind  by  the 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  119 

force,  which  remains.  The  very  same  principle  of 
experience,  which  gives  us  a  certain  degree  of  assur- 
ance in  the  testimony  of  witnesses,  gives  us  also,  in 
this  case,  another  degree  of  assurance  against  the  fact, 
which  they  endeavour  to  establish;  from  which  contra- 
diction there  necessarily  arises  a  counterpoize,  and  ,  ^ 
mutual  destruction  of  belief  and  authority. 

/  should  not  believe  such  a  story  were  it  told  me  by 
Cato,  was  a  proverbial  saying  in  Rome,  even  during 
the  lifetime  of  that  philosophical  patriot.^  The  in- 
credibility of  a  fact,  it  was  allowed,  might  invalidate 
so  great  an  authority. 

The  Indian  prince,  who  refused  to  believe  the  first 
relations  concerning  the  effects  of  frost,  reasoned  justly; 
and  it  naturally  required  very  strong  testimony  to  en- 
gage his  assent  to  facts,  that  arose  from  a  state  of 
nature,  with  which  he  was  unacquainted,  and  which 
bore  so  little  analogy  to  those  events,  of  which  he  had 
had  constant  and  uniform  experience.  Though  they 
were  not  contrary  to  his  experience,  they  were  not 
conformable  to  it.^ 

1  Plutarch,  in  vita  Catonis. 

2  No  Indian,  it  is  evident,  could  have  experience  that  water  did  not  freeze 
in  cold  climates.  This  is  placing  nature  in  a  situation  quite  unknown  to  him; 
and  it  is  impossible  for  him  to  tell  a  priori  what  will  result  from  it.  It  is 
making  a  new  experiment,  the  consequence  of  which  is  always  uncertain. 
One  may  sometimes  conjecture  from  analogy  what  will  follow  ;  but  still  this 
is  but  conjecture.  And  it  must  be  confessed,  that,  in  the  present  case  of 
freezing,  the  event  follows  contrary  to  the  rules  of  analogy,  and  is  such  as  a 
rational  Indian  would  not  look  for.  The  operations  of  cold  upon  water  are 
not  gradual,  according  to  the  degrees  of  cold ;  but  whenever  it  comes  to  the 
freezing  point,  the  water  passes  in  a  moment,  from  the  utmost  liquidity  to 
perfect  hardness.  Such  an  event,  therefore,  may  be  denominated  extraordi- 
nary, and  requires  a  pretty  strong  testimony,  to  render  it  credible  to  people 
in  a  warm  climate :  But  still  it  is  not  miraculous,  nor  contrary  to  uniform  ex- 
perience of  the  course  of  nature  in  cases  where  all  the  circumstances  are  the 
same.  The  inhabitants  of  Sumatra  have  always  seen  water  fluid  in  their  own 
climate,  and  the  freezing  of  their  rivers  ought  to  be  deemed  a  prodigy:  But 
they  never  saw  water  in  Muscovy  during  the  winter;  and  therefore  they  can- 
not reasonably  be  positive  what  would  there  be  the  consequence. 


120  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

But  in  order  to  encrease  the  probability  against 
the  testimony  of  witnesses,  let  us  suppose,  that  the 
fact,  which  they  affirm,  instead  of  being  only  marvel- 
lous, is  really  miraculous;  and  suppose  also,  that  the 
testimony  considered  apart  and  in  itself,  amounts  to 
an  entire  proof;  in  that  case,  there  is  proof  against 
proof,  of  which  the  strongest  must  prevail,  but  still 
with  a  diminution  of  its  force,  in  proportion  to  that  of 
its  antagonist.         .  ,    ,         . 

A  miracle  is  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  nature ;  and 
as  It  firm  and  unalterable  experience  has  established 
these  laws,  the  proof  against  a  miracle,  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  fact,  is  as  entire  as  any  argument  from 
experience  can  possibly  be  imagined.  Why  is  it  more 
than  probable,  that  all  men  must  die ;  that  lead  can- 
not, of  itself,  remain  suspended  in  the  air;  that  fire 
consumes  wood,  and  is  extinguished  by  water  ;  unless 
it  be,  that  these  events  are  found  agreeable  to  the  laws 
of  nature,  and  there  is  required  a  violation  of  these 
laws,  or  in  other  words,  a  miracle  to  prevent  them  ? 
Nothing  is  esteemed  a  miracle,  if  it  ever  happen  in 
the  common  course  of  nature.  It  is  no  miracle  that  a 
man,  seemingly  in  good  health,  should  die  on  a  sud- 
den :  because  such  a  kind  of  death,  though  more  un- 
usual than  any  other,  has  yet  been  frequently  observed 
to  happen.  But  it  is  a  miracle,  that  a  dead  man  should 
come  to  life ;  because  that  has  never  been  observed  in 
any  age  or  country.  There  must,  therefore,  be  a  uni- 
form experience  against  every  miraculous  event,  other- 
wise the  event  would  not  merit  that  appellation.  And 
as  a  uniform  experience  amounts  to  a  proof,  there  is 
here  a  direct  and  full  proof,  from  the  nature  of  the  fact, 
against  the  existence  of  any  miracle ;  nor  can  such  a 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  121 

proof  be  destroyed,  or  the  miracle  rendered  credible, 
but  by  an  opposite  proof,  which  is  superior.^ 

The  plain  consequence  is  (and  it  is  a  general  maxim 
worthy  of  our  attention),  'That  no  testimony  is  suffi- 
cient to  establish  a  miracle,  unless  the  testimony  be 
of  such  a  kind,  that  its  falsehood  would  be  more  mi- 
raculous, than  the  fact,  which  it  endeavours  to  estab- 
lish ;  and  even  in  that  case  there  is  a  mutual  destruc- 
tion of  arguments,  and  the  superior  only  gives  us  an 
assurance  suitable  to  that  degree  of  force,  which  re- 
mains, after  deducting  the  inferior.'  When  anyone 
tells  me,  that  he  saw  a  dead  man  restored  to  life,  I 
immediately  consider  with  myself,  whether  it  be  more 
probable,  that  this  person  should  either  deceive  or  be 
deceived,  or  that  the  fact,  which  he  relates,  should 
really  have  happened.  I  weigh  the  one  miracle  against 
the  other ;  and  according  to  the  superiority,  which  I 
discover,  I  pronounce  my  decision,  and  always  reject 
the  greater  miracle.  If  the  falsehood  of  his  testimony 
would  be  more  miraculous,  than  the  event  which  he 


1  Sometimes  an  event  may  not,  in  itself ^  seem  to  be  contrary  to  the  laws 
of  nature,  and  yet,  if  it  were  real,  it  might,  by  reason  of  some  circumstances, 
be  denominated  a  miracle ;  because,  in  fact,  it  is  contrary  to  these  laws. 
Thus  if  a  person,  claiming  a  divine  authority,  should  command  a  sick  person 
to  be  well,  a  healthful  man  to  fall  down  dead,  the  clouds  to  pour  rain,  the 
winds  to  blow,  in  short,  should  order  many  natural  events,  which  immediately 
follow  upon  his  command ;  these  might  justly  be  esteemed  miracles,  because 
they  are  really,  in  this  case,  contrary  to  the  laws  of  nature.  For  if  any  suspi- 
cion remain,  that  the  event  and  command  concurred  by  accident,  there  is  no 
miracle  and  no  transgression  of  the  laws  of  nature.  If  this  suspicion  be  re- 
moved, there  is  evidently  a  miracle,  and  a  transgression  of  these  laws;  be- 
cause nothing  can  be  more  contrary  to  nature  than  that  the  voice  or  command 
of  a  man  should  have  such  an  influence.  A  miracle  may  be  accurately  defined, 
a  transgression  of  a  law  of  nature  by  a  particular  volition  of  the  Deity,  or  by 
the  interposition  of  some  invisible  agent.  A  miracle  may  either  be  discoverable 
by  men  or  not.  This  alters  not  its  nature  and  essence.  The  raising  of  a 
house  or  ship  into  the  air  is  a  visible  miracle.  The  raising  of  a  feather,  when 
the  wind  wants  ever  so  little  of  a  force  requisite  for  that  purpose,  is  as  real  a 
miracle,  though  not  so  sensible  with  regard  to  us. 


122  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

relates;  then,   and  not  till  then,   can  he  pretend  to 
command  my  belief  or  opInionry^^tiX    %i-\'\\     u^ou-  r>^ai.h 

Part  II. 

In  the  foregoing  reasoning  we  have  supposed,  that 
the  testimony,  upon  which  a  miracle  is  founded,  may 
possibly  amount  to' an  entire  proof,  and  that  the  false- 
hood of  that  testimony  would  be  a  real  prodigy :  But 
it  is  easy  to  shew,  that  we  have  been  a  great  deal  too 
liberal  in  our  concession,  and  that  there  never  was  av._, 
miraculous  event  established  on  so  full  an  evidence. 

For  Jirst,  there  is  not  to  be  found,  in  all  history, 
any  miracle  attested  by  a  sufficient  number  of  men,  of 
such  unquestioned  good-sense,  education,  and  learn- 
ing, as  to  secure  us  against  all  delusion  in  themselves; 
of  such  undoubted  integrity,  as  to  place  them  beyond 
all  suspicion  of  any  design  to  deceive  others ;  of  such 
credit  and  reputation  in  the  eyes  of  mankind,  as  to 
have  a  great  deal  to  lose  in  case  of  their  being  detected 
in  any  falsehood;  and  at  the  same  time,  attesting  facts 
performed  in  such  a  public  manner  and  in  so  cele- 
brated a  part  of  the  world,  as  to  render  the  detection 
unavoidable :  All  which  circumstances  are  requisite 
to  give  us  a  full  assurance  in  the  testimony  of  men. 

Secondly.  We  may  observe  in  human  nature  a  prin- 
ciple which,  if  strictly  examined,  will  be  found  to  di- 
minish extremely  the  assurance,  which  we  might,  from 
human  testimony,  have,  in  any  kind  of  prodigy.  The 
maxim,  by  which  we  commonly  conduct  ourselves  in 
our  reasonings,  is,  that  the  objects,  of  which  we  have 
no  experience,  resemble  those,  of  which  we  have; 
that  what  we  have  found  to  be  most  usual  is  always 
most  probable ;  and  that  where  there  is  an  opposition 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  123 

3o\ -^-^-^  ^-^  -  '•  •  -^  '-^  ■ 
^f  arguments,  we  ought  to  give  the  preference  to  such 
as  are  founded  on  the  greatest  number  of  past  obser- 
vations. But  though,  in  proceeding  by  this  rule,  we 
readily  reject  any  fact  which  is  unusual  and  incredible 
in  an  ordinary  degree ;  yet  in  advancing  farther,  the 
mind  observes  not  always  the  same  rule ;  but  when 
anything  is  affirmed  utterly  absurd  and  miraculous,  it 
rather  the  more  readily  admits  of  such  a  fact,  upon 
account  of  that  very  circumstance,  which  ought  to  de- 
stroy all  its  authority.  The  passion  of  surprise  and 
wonder,  arising  from  miracles,  being  an  agreeable  emo- 
tion, gives  a  sensible  tendency  towards  the  belief  of 
those  events,  from  which  it  is  derived.  And  this  goes 
so  far,  that  even  those  who  cannot  enjoy  this  pleasure 
immediately,  nor  can  believe  those  miraculous  events, 
of  which  they  are  informed,  yet  love  to  partake  of  the 
satisfaction  at  second-hand  or  by  rebound,  and  place 
a  pride  and  delight  in  exciting  the  admiration  of  others. 
With  what  greediness  are  the  miraculous  accounts 
of  travellers  received,  their  descriptions  of  sea  and 
land  monsters,  their  relations  of  wonderful  adventures, 
strange  men,  and  uncouth  manners  ?  But  if  the  spirit 
of  religion  join  itself  to  the  love  of  wonder,  there  is  an 
end  of  common  sense ;  and  human  testimony,  in  these 
circumstances,  loses  all  pretensions  to  authority.  A 
religionist  may  be  an  enthusiast,  and  imagine  he  sees 
what  has  no  reality :  he  may  know  his  narrative  to  be 
false,  and  yet  persevere  in  it,  with  the  best  intentions 
in  the  world,  for  the  sake  of  promoting  so  holy  a  cause: 
or  even  where  this  delusion  has  not  place,  vanity,  ex- 
cited by  so  strong  a  temptation,  operates  on  him  more 
powerfully  than  on  the  rest  of  mankind  in  any  other 
circumstances  ;  and  self-interest  with  equal  force.  His 
auditors  may  not  have,  and  commonly  have  not,  suf- 


124  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

ficient  judgement  to  canvass  his  evidence:  what  judge- 
ment they  have,  they  renounce  by  principle,  in  these 
sublime  and  mysterious  subjects :  or  if  they  were  ever 
so  willing  to  employ  it,  passion  and  a  heated  imagina- 
tion disturb  the  regularity  of  its  operations.  Their 
credulity  increases  his  impudence  :  and  his  impudence 
overpowers  their  credulity. 

Eloquence,  when  at  its  highest  pitch,  leaves  little 
room  for  reason  or  reflection;  but  addressing  itself 
entirely  to  the  fancy  or  the  affections,  captivates  the 
willing  hearers,  and  subdues  their  understanding. 
Happily,  this  pitch  it  seldom  attains.  But  what  a 
Tully  or  a  Demosthenes  could  scarcely  effect  over  a 
Roman  or  Athenian  audience,  every  Capuchin,  every 
itinerant  or  stationary  teacher  can  perform  over  the 
generality  of  mankind,  and  in  a  higher  degree,  by 
touching  such  gross  and  vulgar  passions. 

The  many  instances  of  forged  miracles,  and  proph- 
ecies, and  supernatural  events,  which,  in  all  ages, 
have  either  been  detected  by  contrary  evidence,  or 
which  detect  themselves  by  their  absurdity,  prove 
sufficiently  the  strong  propensity  of  mankind  to  the 
extraordinary  and  the  marvellous,  and  ought  reason- 
ably to  beget  a  suspicion  against  all  relations  of  this 
kind.  This  is  our  natural  way  of  thinking,  even  with 
regard  to  the  most  common  and  most  credible  events. 
For  instance :  There  is  no  kind  of  report  which  rises 
so  easily,  and  spreads  so  quickly,  especially  in  country 
places  and  provincial  towns,  as  those  concerning  mar- 
riages; insomuch  that  two  young  persons  of  equal 
condition  never  see  each  other  twice,  but  the  whole 
neighbourhood  immediately  join  them  together.  The 
pleasure  of  telling  a  piece  of  news  so  interesting,  of 
propagating  it,  and  of  being  the  first  reporters  of  it, 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  125 

Spreads  the  intelligence.  And  this  is  so  well  known, 
that  no  man  of  sense  gives  attention  to  these  reports, 
till  he  find  them  confirmed  by  some  greater  evidence. 
Do  not  the  same  passions,  and  others  still  stronger, 
incline  the  generality  of  mankind  to  believe  and  report, 
with  the  greatest  vehemence  and  assurance,  all  reli- 
gious miracles  ? 

Thirdly,  It  forms  a  strong  presumption  against 
all  supernatural  and  miraculous  relations,  that  they 
are  observed  chiefly  to  abound  among  ignorant  and 
barbarous  nations ;  or  if  a  civilized  people  has  ever 
given  admission  to  any  of  them,  that  people  will  be 
found  to  have  received  them  from  ignorant  and  bar- 
barous ancestors,  who  transmitted  them  with  that  in- 
violable sanction  and  authority,  which  always;  attend 
received  opinions..  When  we  peruse  the  first  histories 
of  all  nations,  we  are  apt  to  imagine  ourselves  trans- 
ported into  some  new  world ;  where  the  whole  frame 
of  nature  is  disjointed,  and  every  element  performs  its 
operations  in  a  different  manner,  from  what  it  does  at 
present.  Battles,  revolutions,  pestilence,  famine  and 
death,  are  never  the  effect  of  those  natural  causes, 
which  we  experience.  Prodigies,"  omens,  oracles, 
judgements,  quite  obscure  the  few  natural  events,  that 
are  intermingled  with  them.  But  as  the  former  grow 
thinner  every  page,  in  proportion  as  we  advance  nearer 
the  enlightened  ages,  we  soon  learn,  that  there  is  noth- 
ing mysterious  or  supernatural  in  the  case,  but  that 
all  proceeds  from  the  usual  propensity  of  mankind 
towards  the  marvellous,  and  that,  though  this  inclina- 
tion may  at  intervals  receive  a  check  from  sense  and 
learning,  it  can  never  be  thoroughly  extirpated  from 
human  nature. 

//  is  strange^  a  judicious  reader  is  apt  to  say,  upon 


125  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

the  perusal  of  these  wonderful  historians,  that  such 
prodigious  events  never  happen  in  our  days.  But  it  is 
nothing  strange,  I  hope,  that  men  should  lie  in  all 
ages.  You  must  surely  have  seen  instances  enough 
of  that  frailty.  You  have  yourself  heard  many  such 
marvellous  relations  started,  which,  being  treated  with 
scorn  by  all  the  wise  and  judicious,  have  at  last  been 
abandoned  even  by  the  vulgar.  Be  assured,  that  those 
renowned  lies,  which  have  spread  and  flourished  to 
such  a  monstrous  height,  arose  from  like  beginnings ; 
but  being  sown  in  a  more  proper  soil,  shot  up  at  last 
into  prodigies  almost  equal  to  those  which  they  relate. 

It  was  a  wise  policy  in  that  false  prophet,  Alexan- 
der, who  though  now  forgotten,  was  once  so  famous, 
to  lay  the  first  scene  of  his  impostures  in  Paphlagonia, 
where,  as  Lucian  tells  us,  the  people  were  extremely 
ignorant  and  stupid,  and  ready  to  swallow  even  the 
grossest  delusion.  People  at  a  distance,  who  are  weak 
enough  to  think  the  matter  at  all  worth  enquiry,  have 
no  opportunity  of  receiving  better  information.  The 
stories  come  magnified  to  them  by  a  hundred  circum- 
stances. Fools  are  industrious  in  propagating  the 
imposture ;  while  the  wise  and  learned  are  contented, 
in  general,  to  deride  its  absurdity,  without  informing 
themselves  of  the  particular  facts,  by  which  it  may  be 
distinctly  refuted.  And  thus  the  impostor  above  men- 
tioned was  enabled  to  proceed,  from  his  ignorant 
Paphlagonians,  to  the  enlisting  of  votaries,  even  among 
the  Grecian  philosophers,  and  men  of  the  most  emi- 
nent rank  and  distinction  in  Rome  :  nay,  could  engage 
the  attention  of  that  sage  emperor  Marcus  Aurelius; 
so  far  as  to  make  him  trust  the  success  of  a  military 
expedition  to  his  deluisve  prophecies. 

The  advantages  are  so  great,  of  starting  an  impos- 


HUMAN-  UNDERSTANDING.  127 

ture  among  an  ignorant  people,  that,  even  though  the 
delusion  should  be  too  gross  to  impose  on  the  gener- 
ality of  them  {which,  though  seldom,  is  sometimes  the  case) 
it  has  a  much  better  chance  for  succeeding  in  remote 
countries,  than  if  the  first  scene  had  been  laid  in  a  city- 
renowned  for  arts  and  knowledge.  The  most  ignorant 
and  barbarous  of  these  barbarians  carry  the  report 
abroad.  None  of  their  countrymen  have  a  large  cor- 
respondence, or  sufficient  credit  and  authority  to  con- 
tradict and  beat  down  the  delusion.  Men's  inclination 
to  the  marvellous  has  full  opportunity  to  display  itself. 
And  thus  a  story,  which  is  universally  exploded  in  the 
place  where  it  was  first  started,  shall  pass  for  certain 
at  a  thousand  miles  distance.  But  had  Alexander 
fixed  his  residence  at  Athens,  the  philosophers  of  that 
renowned  mart  of  learning  had  immediately  spread, 
throughout  the  whole  Roman  empire,  their  sense  of 
the  matter ;  which,  being  supported  by  so  great  au- 
thority, and  displayed  by  all  the  force  of  reason  and 
eloquence,  had  entirely  opened  the  eyes  of  mankind. 
It  is  true ;  Lucian,  passing  by  chance  through  Paph- 
lagonia,  had  an  opportunity  of  performing  this  good 
office.  But,  though  much  to  be  wished,  it  does  not 
always  happen,  that  every  Alexander  meets  with  a 
Lucian,  ready  to  expose  and  detect  his  impostures. 

I  may  add  as  a /^z/rM  reason,  which  diminishes  the 
authority  of  prodigies^  that  there  is  no  testimony  for 
any,  even  those  which  have  not  been  expressly  de- 
tected, that  is  not  opposed  by  an  infinite  number  of 
witnesses ;  so  that  not  only  the  miracle  destroys  the 
credit  of  testimony,  but  the  testimony  destroys  itself. 
To  make  this  the  better  understood,  let  us  consider, 
that,  in  matters  of  religion,  whatever  is  different  is 
contrary;   and  that  it  is  impossible  the  religions  of 


128  AN"  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

ancient  Rome,  of  Turkey,  of  Siam,  and  of  China 
should,  all  of  them,  be  established  on  any  solid  foun- 
dation. Every  miracle,  therefore,  pretended  to  have 
been  wrought  in  any  of  these  religions  (and  all  of  them 
abound  in  miracles),  as  its  direct  scope  is  to  establish 
the  particular  system  to  which  it  is  attributed ;  so  has 
it  the  same  force,  though  more  indirectly,  to  overthrow 
every  other  system.  In  destroying  a  rival  system,  it 
likewise  destroys  the  credit  of  those  miracles,  on  which 
that  system  was  established;  so  that  all  the  prodigies 
of  different  religions  are  to  be  regarded  as  contrary 
facts,  and  the  evidences  of  these  prodigies,  whether 
weak  or  strong,  as  opposite  to  each  other.  According 
to  this  method  of  reasoning,  when  we  believe  any  mir- 
acle of  Mahomet  or  his  successors,  we  have  for  our 
warrant  the  testimony  of  a  few  barbarous  Arabians : 
And  on  the  other  hand,  we  are  to  regard  the  authority 
of  Titus  Livius,  Plutarch,  Tacitus,  and,  in  short,  of 
all  the  authors  and  witnesses,  Grecian,  Chinese,  and 
Roman  Catholic,  who  have  related  any  miracle  in  their 
particular  religion ;  I  say,  we  are  to  regard  their  testi- 
mony in  the  same  light  as  if  they  had  mentioned  that 
Mahometan  miracle,  and  had  in  express  terms  contra- 
dicted it,  with  the  same  certainty  as  they  have  for  the 
miracle  they  relate.  This  argument  may  appear  over 
subtile  and  refined ;  but  is  not  in  reality  different  from 
the  reasoning  of  a  judge,  who  supposes,  that  the  credit 
of  two  witnesses,  maintaining  a  crime  against  any  one, 
is  destroyed  by  the  testimony  of  two  others,  who  affirm 
him  to  have  been  two  hundred  leagues  distant,  at  the 
same  instant  when  the  crime  is  said  to  have  been  com- 
mitted. 

One  of  the  best  attested  miracles  in  all  profane  his- 
tory, is  that  which  Tacitus  reports  of  Vespasian,  who 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  129 

cured  a  blind  man  in  Alexandria,  by  means  oi  his 
spittle,  and  a  lame  man  by  the  mere  touch  of  his  foot ; 
in  obedience  to  a  vision  of  the  god  Serapis,  who  had 
enjoined  them  to  have  recourse  to  the  Emperor,  for 
these  miraculous  cures.  The  story  may  be  seen  in  that 
fine  historian  ;i  where  every  circumstance  seems  to 
add  weight  to  the  testimony,  and  might  be  displayed 
at  large  with  all  the  force  of  argument  and  eloquence, 
if  any  one  were  now  concerned  to  enforce  the  evidence 
of  that  exploded  and  idolatrous  superstition.  The 
gravity,  solidity,  age,  and  probity  of  so  great  an  em- 
peror, v/ho,  through  the  whole  course  of  his  life,  con- 
versed in  a  familiar  manner  with  his  friends  and  court- 
iers, and  never  affected  those  extraordinary  airs  of 
divinity  assumed  by  Alexander  and  Demetrius.  The 
historian,  a  cotemporary  writer,  noted  for  candour  and 
veracity,  and  withal,  the  greatest  and  most  penetrat- 
ing genius,  perhaps,  of  all  antiquity;  and  so  free  fronj 
any  tendency  to  credulity,  that  he  even  lies  under  the 
contrary  imputation,  of  atheism  and  profaneness:  The 
persons,  from  whose  authority  he  related  the  miracle, 
of  established  character  for  judgement  and  veracity, 
as  we  may  well  presume ;  eye-witnesses  of  the  fact, 
and  confirming  their  testimony,  after  the  Flavian  fam- 
ily was  despoiled  of  the  empire,  and  could  no  longer 
give  any  reward,  as  the  price  of  a  lie.  Utrumque,  qui 
interfuerey  nunc  quoque  memoranty  postquam  nullum  vien- 
dacio  pretium.  To  which  if  we  add  the  public  nature 
of  the  facts,  as  related,  it  will  appear,  that  no  evidence 
can  well  be  supposed  stronger  for  so  gross  and  so 
palpable  a  falsehood. 

There  is  also  a  memorable  story  related  by  Cardi- 

1  Hist.  lib.  V.  cap.  8.    Suetonius  gives  nearly  the  same  account  in  vita 
Vesp. 


I30  AM  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

nal  de  Retz,  which  may  well  deserve  our  consideration. 
When  that  intriguing  politician  fled  into  Spain,  to 
avoid  the  persecution  of  his  enemies,  he  passed  through 
Saragossa,  the  capital  of  Arragon,  where  he  was  shewn, 
in  the  cathedral,  a  man,  who  had  served  seven  years 
as  a  doorkeeper,  and  was  well  known  to  every  body  in 
town,  that  had  ever  paid  his  devotions  at  that  church. 
He  had  been  seen,  for  so  long  a  time,  wanting  a  leg ; 
but  recovered  that  limb  by  the  rubbing  of  holy  oil  upon 
the  stump ;  and  the  cardinal  assures  us  that  he  saw 
him  with  two  legs.  This  miracle  was  vouched  by  all 
the  canons  of  the  church ;  and  the  whole  company  in 
town  were  appealed  to  for  a  confirmation  of  the  fact ; 
whom  the  cardinal  found,  by  their  zealous  devotion, 
to  be  thorough  believers  of  the  miracle.  Here  the 
relater  was  also  cotemporary  to  the  supposed  prodigy, 
of  an  incredulous  and  libertine  character,  as  well  as 
of  great  genius ;  the  miracle  of  so  singular  a  nature  as 
could  scarcely  admit  of  a  counterfeit,  and  the  witnesses 
very  numerous,  and  all  of  them,  in  a  manner,  specta- 
tors of  the  fact,  to  which  they  gave  their  testimony. 
And  what  adds  mightily  to  the  force  of  the  evidence, 
and  may  double  our  surprise  on  this  occasion,  is,  that 
the  cardinal  himself,  who  relates  the  story,  seems  not 
to  give  any  credit  to  it,  and  consequently  cannot  be 
suspected  of  any  concurrence  in  the  holy  fraud.  He 
considered  justly,  that  it  was  not  requisite,  in  order  to 
reject  a  fact  of  this  nature,  to  be  able  accurately  to 
disprove  the  testimony,  and  to  trace  its  falsehood, 
through  all  the  circumstances  of  knavery  and  credulity 
which  produced  it. .  He  knew,  that,  as  this  was  com- 
monly altogether  impossible  at  any  small  distance  of 
time  and  place;  so  was  it  extremely  difficult,  even 
where  one  was  immediately  present,  by  reason  of  the 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING 

bigotry,  ignorance,  cunning,  and  roguery  of  ^.*  ^at 
part  of  mankind.  He  therefore  concluded,  like  a  just 
reasoner,  that  such  an  evidence  carried  falsehood  upon 
the  very  face  of  it,  and  that  a  miracle,  supported  by 
any  human  testimony,  was  more  properly  a  subject  of 
derision  than  of  argument. 

There  surely  never  was  a  greater  number  of  mir- 
acles ascribed  to  one  person,  than  those,  which  were 
lately  said  to  have  been  wrought  in  France  upon  the 
tomb  of  Abbd  Paris,  the  famous  Jansenist,  with  whose 
sanctity  the  people  were  so  long  deluded.  The  curing 
of  the  sick,  giving  hearing  to  the  deaf,  and  sight  to 
the  blind,  were  every  where  talked  of  as  the  usual  ef- 
fects of  that  holy  sepulchre.  But  what  is  more  extra- 
ordinary; many  of  the  miracles  were  immediately 
proved  upon  the  spot,  before  judges  of  unquestioned 
integrity,  attested  by  witnesses  of  credit  and  distinc- 
tion, in  a  learned  age,  and  on  the  most  eminent  the- 
atre that  is  now  in  the  world.  Nor  is  this  all :  a  rela- 
tion of  them  was  published  and  dispersed  everywhere; 
nor  were  the  Jesuits ^  though  a  learned  body,  supported 
by  the  civil  magistrate,  and  determined  enemies  to 
those  opinions,  in  whose  favour  the  miracles  were  said 
to  have  been  wrought,  ever  able  distinctly  to  refute  or 
detect  them.  Where  shall  we  find  such  a  number  of 
circumstances,  agreeing  to  the  corroboration  of  one 
fact?  And  what  have  we  to  oppose  to  such  a  cloud 
of  witnesses,  but  the  absolute  impossibility  or  miracu- 
lous nature  of  the  events,  which  they  relate  ?  And  this 
surely,  in  the  eyes  of  all  reasonable  people,  will  alone 
be  regarded  as  a  sufficient  refutation. 

Is  the  consequence  just,  because  some  human  tes- 
timony has  the  utmost  force  and  authority  in  some 
cases,  when  it  relates  the  battle  of  Philippi  or  Pharsa- 


AN-  ENQUIR  V  CONCERNING 

lia  s^  i^nstance ;  that  therefore  all  kinds  of  testimony 
must,  in  all  cases,  have  equal  force  and  authority? 
Suppose  that  the  Caesarean  and  Pompeian  factions 
had,  each  of  them,  claimed  the  victory  in  these  bat- 
tles, and  that  the  historians  of  each  party  had  uniformly 
ascribed  the  advantage  to  their  own  side ;  how  could 
mankind,  at  this  distance,  have  been  able  to  deter- 
mine between  them?  The  contrariety  is  equally  strong 
between  the  miracles  related  by  Herodotus  or  Plutarch, 
and  those  delivered  by  Mariana,  Bede,  or  any  monkish 
historian. 

The  wise  lend  a  very  academic  faith  to  every  report 
which  favours  the  passion  of  the  reporter;  whether  it 
magnifies  his  country,  his  family,  or  himself,  or  in  any 
other  way  strikes  in  with  his  natural  inclinations  and 
propensities.  But  what  greater  temptation  than  to 
appear  a  missionary,  a  prophet,  an  ambassador  from 
heaven?  Who  would  not  encounter  many  dangers  and 
difficulties,  in  order  to  attain  so  sublime  a  character? 
Or  if,  by  the  help  of  vanity  and  a  heated  imagination, 
a  man  has  first  made  a  convert  of  himself,  and  entered 
seriously  into  the  delusion;  who  ever  scruples  to  make 
use  of  pious  frauds,  in  support  of  so  holy  and  merito- 
rious a  cause? 

The  smallest  spark  may  here  kindle  into  the  great- 
est flame ;  because  the  materials  are  always  prepared 
for  it.  The  avidum  genus  auricularum^^  the  gazing 
populace,  receive  greedily,  without  examination,  what- 
ever soothes  superstition,  and  promotes  wonder. 

How  many  stories  of  this  nature  have,  in  all  ages, 
been  detected  and  exploded  in  their  infancy?  How 
many  more  have  been  celebrated  for  a  time,  and  have 
afterwards  sunk  into  neglect  and  oblivion?     Where 

1  Lucret. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  I33 

such  reports,  therefore,  fly  about,  the  solution  of  the 
phenomenon  is  obvious;  and  we  judge  in  conformity 
to  regular  experience  and  observation,  when  we  ac- 
count for  it  by  the  known  and  natural  principles  of 
credulity  and  delusion.  And  shall  we,  rather  than 
have  a  recourse  to  so  natural  a  solution,  allow  of  a 
miraculous  violation  of  the  most  established  laws  of 
nature? 

I  need  not  mention  the  difficulty  of  detecting  a  false- 
hood in  any  private  or  even  public  history,  at  the 
place,  where  it  is  said  to  happen ;  much  more  when 
the  scene  is  removed  to  ever  so  small  a  distance. 
Even  a  court  of  judicature,  with  all  the  authority,  ac- 
curacy, and  judgement,  which  they  can  employ,  find 
themselves  often  at  a  loss  to  distinguish  between  truth 
and  falsehood  in  the  most  recent  actions.  But  the 
matter  never  comes  to  any  issue,  if  trusted  to  the  com- 
mon method  of  altercations  and  debate  and  flying  ru- 
mours; especially  when  men's  passions  have  taken  part 
on  either  side. 

^-^In  the  infancy  of  new  religions,  the  wise  and  learned 
corhmonly  esteem  the  matter  too  inconsiderable  to  de- 
serve their  attention  or  regard.  And  when  afterwards 
they  would  willingly  detect  the  cheat,  in  order  to  un- 
deceive the  deluded  multitude,  the  season  is  now 
past,  and  the  records  and  witnesses,  which  might 
clear  up  the  matter,  have  perished  beyond  recovery. 

No  means  of  detection  remain,  but  those  which 
must  be  drawn  from  the  very  testimony  itself  of  the 
reporters:  and  these,  though  always  sufficient  with 
the  judicious  and  knowing,  are  commonly  too  fine  to 
fall  under  the  comprehension  of  the  vulgar. 

Upon  the  whole,  then,  it  appears,  that  no  testi- 
mony for  any  kind  of  miracle  has  ever  amounted  to  a 


134  ^^  ^^Q  U^^  Y  ^  ONCERNING 

probability,  much  less  to  a  proof;  and  that,  even  sup- 
posing it  amounted  to  a  proof,  it  would  be  opposed 
by  another  proof ;  derived  from  the  very  nature  of  the 
fact,  which  it  would  endeavour  to  establish.  It  is  ex- 
perience only,  which  gives  authority  to  human  testi- 
mony; and  it  is  the  same  experience,  which  assures  us 
of  the  laws  of  nature.  When,  therefore,  these  two  klnds^ 
of  experience  are  contrary,  we  have  nothing  to  do 
but  substract  the  one  from  the  other,  and  embrace 
an  opinion,  either  on  one  side  or  the  other,  with  that 
assurance  which  arises  from  the  remainder.  But  ac- 
cording to  the  principle  here  explained,  this  substrac- 
tion,  with  regard  to  all  popular  religions,  amounts  to 
an  entire  annihilation ;  and  therefore  we  may  establish 
it  as  a  maxim,' that  no  human  testimony  can  have  such 
force  as  to  prove  a  miracle,  and  make  it  a  just  foun- 
dation for  any  such  system  of  religion.- 

I  beg  the  limitations  here  made  may  be  remarked, 
when  I  say,  that  a  miracle  can  never  be  proved,  so  as 
to  be  the  foundation  of  a  system  of  religion.  For  I 
own,  that  otherwise,  there  may  possibly  be  miracles, 
or  violations  of  the  usual  course  of  nature,  of  such  a 
kind  as  to  admit  of  proof  from  human  testimony; 
though,  perhaps,  it  will  be  impossible  to  find  any  such 
in  all  the  records  of  history.  Thus,  suppose,  all 
authors,  In  all  languages,  agree,  that,  from  the  first  of 
January  1600,  there  was  a  total  darkness  over  the  whole 
earth  for  eight  days:  suppose  that  the  tradition  of  this 
extraordinary  event  is  still  strong  and  lively  among 
the  people:  that  all  travellers,  who  return  from  foreign 
countries,  bring  us  accounts  of  the  same  tradition, 
without  the  least  variation  or  contradiction  :  it  is  evi- 
dent, that  our  present  philosophers,  instead  of  doubt- 
ing the  fact,  ought  to  receive  It  as  certain,  and  ought 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING  135 

to  search  for  the  causes  whence  it  might  be  derived. 
The  decay,  corruption,  and  dissolution  of  nature,  is 
an  event  rendered  probable  by  so  many  analogies, 
that  any  phenomenon,  which  seems  to  have  a  tend- 
ency towards  that  catastrophe,  comes  within  the  reach 
of  human  testimony,  if  that  testimony  be  very  exten- 
sive and  uniform. 

But  suppose,  that  all  the  historians  who  treat  of 
England,  should  agree,  that,  on  the  first  of  Jan- 
uary 1600,  Queen  Elizabeth  died  ;  that  both  before 
and  after  her  death  she  was  seen  by  her  physicians 
and  the  whole  court,  as  is  usual  with  persons  of  her 
rank ;  that  her  successor  was  acknowledged  and  pro- 
claimed by  the  parliament ;  and  that,  after  being  in- 
terred a  month,  she  again  appeared,  resumed  the 
throne,  and  governed  England  for  three  years:  I  must 
confess  that  I  should  be  surprised  at  the  concurrence 
of  so  many  odd  circumstances,  but  should  not  have 
the  least  inclination  to  believe  so  miraculous  an  event. 
I  should  not  doubt  of  her  pretended  death,  and  of 
those  other  public  circumstances  that  followed  it :  I 
should  only  assert  it  to  have  been  pretended,  and  that 
it  neither  was,  nor  possibly  could  be  real.  You  would 
in  vain  object  to  me  the  difficulty,  and  almost  impos- 
sibility of  deceiving  the  world  in  an  affair  of  such  con- 
sequence ;  the  wisdom  and  solid  judgement  of  that 
renowned  queen  j  with  the  little  or  no  advantage 
which  she  could  reap  from  so  poor  an  artifice :  All 
this  might  astonish  me  ;  but  I  would  still  reply,  that 
the  knavery  and  folly  of  men  are  such  common  phe- 
nomena, that  I  should  rather  believe  the  most  extraor- 
dinary events  to  arise  from  their  concurrence,  than 
admit  of  so  signal  a  violation  of  the  laws  of  nature. 

But  should  this  miracle  be  ascribed  to  any  new 


1 36  AN  ENQ  UIR  V  CONCERNING 

system  of  religion;  men,  in  all  ages,  have  been  so 
much  imposed  on  by  ridiculous  stories  of  that  kind, 
that  this  very  circumstance  would  be  a  full  proof  of  a 
cheat,  and  sufficient,  with  all  men  of  sense,  not  only 
to  make  them  reject  the  fact,  but  even  reject  it  with- 
out farther  examination.  Though  the  Being  to  whom 
the  miracle  is  ascribed,  be,  in  this  case,  Almighty,  it 
does  not,  upon  that  account,  become  a  whit  more 
probable ;  since  it  is  impossible  for  us  to  know  the 
attributes  or  actions  of  such  a  Being,  otherwise  than 
from  the  experience  which  we  have  of  his  productions, 
in  the  usual  course  of  nature.  This  still  reduces  us 
to  past  observation,  and  obliges  us  to  compare  the 
instances  of  the  violation  of  truth  in  the  testimony  of 
men,  with  those  of  the  violation  of  the  laws  of  nature 
by  miracles,  in  order  to  judge  which  of  them  is  most 
likely  and  probable.  As  the  violations  of  truth  are 
more  common  in  the  testimony  concerning  religious 
miracles,  than  in  that  concerning  any  other  matter  of 
fact ;  this  must  diminish  very  much  the  authority  of 
the  former  testimony,  and  make  us  form  a  general 
resolution,  never  to  lend  any  attention  to  it,  with 
whatever  specious  pretence  it  may  be  covered. 

Lord  Bacon  seems  to  have  embraced  the  same 
principles  of  reasoning.  *We  ought,*  says  he,  *to 
make  a  collection  or  particular  history  of  all  monsters 
and  prodigious  births  or  productions,  and  in  a  word 
of  every  thing  new,  rare,  and  extraordinary  in  nature. 
But  this  must  be  done  with  the  most  severe  scrutiny, 
lest  we  depart  from  truth.  Above  all,  every  relation 
must  be  considered  as  suspicious,  which  depends  in 
any  degree  upon  religion,  as  the  prodigies  of  Livy : 
And  no  less  so,  every  thing  that  is  to  be  found  in  the 
writers  of  natural  magic  or  alchimy,  or  such  authors, 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  137 

who  seem>  all  of  them,  to  have  an  unconquerable  ap- 
petite for  falsehood  and  fable. '  ^ 

I  am  the  better  pleased  with  the  method  of  reason- 
ing here  delivered,  as  I  think  it  may  serve  to  confound 
those  dangerous  friends  or  disguised  enemies  to  the  ' 
Christian  Religion^  who  have  undertaken  to  defend  it 
by  the  principles  of  human  reason.     Our  most  holy 
religion  is  founded  on  Faith^  not  on  reason  ;  and  it  is  , 
a  sure  method  of  exposing  it  to  put  it  tp  such  a  trial  y^u.    o- 
as  it  is,  by  no  means,  fitted  to  endure.     To  make  this  L  .   ^^  . 
more  evident,  let  us  examine  those  miracles,  related  ^ 

in  scripture ;  and  not  to  lose  ourselves  in  too  wide  a 
field,  let  us  confine  ourselves  to  such  as  we  find  in  the 
Pentateuchy  which  we  shall  examine,  according  to  the 
principles  of  these  pretended  Christians,  not  as  the 
word  or  testimony  of  God  himself,  but  as  the  produc- 
tion of  a  mere  human  writer  and  historian.  ^Here  then 
we  are  first  to  consider  a  book,  presented^to  us  by  a 
barbarous  and  ignorant  people,  written  in  an  age  when 
they  were  still  more  barbarous,  and  in  all  probability 
long  after  the  facts  which  it  relates,  corroborated  by 
no  concurring  testimony,  and  resembling  those  fabu- 
lous accounts,  which  every  nation  gives  of  its  origin. 
Upon  reading  this  book,  we  find  it  full  of  prodigies 
and  miracles.  It  gives  an  account  of  a  state  of  the 
world  and  of  human  nature  entirely  different  from  the 
present :  Of  our  fall  from  that  state :  Of  the  age  of 
man,  extended  to  near  a  thousand  years :  Of  the  de- 
struction of  the  world  by  a  deluge :  Of  the  arbitrary 
choice  of  one  people,  as  the  favourites  of  heaven  ;  and 
that  people  the  countrymen  of  the  author :  Of  their 
deliverance  from  bondage  by  prodigies  the  most  aston- 
ishing imaginable :  I  desire  any  one  to  lay  his  hand 

1  Nov.  Org.  lib.  ii.  aph,  29. 


138  AN-  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

upon  his  heart,  and  after  a  serious  consideration  de- 
clare, whether  he  thinks  that  the  falsehood  of  such  a 
book,  supported  by  such  a  testimony,  would  be  more 
extraordinary  and  miraculous  than  all  the  miracles  it 
relates;  which  is,  however,  necessary  to  make  it  be 
received,  according  to  the  measures  of  probability 
above  established. 

.  What  we  have  said  of  miracles  may  be  applied, 
without  any  variation,  to  prophecies ;  and  indeed,  all 
prophecies  are  realjniracles,  and  as.such  only,  can  be 
admitted  as  proofs  of  any  revelation.  If  it  did  not  ex- 
ceed the  capacity  of  human  nature  to  foretell  future 
events,  it  would  be  absurd  to  employ  any  prophecy  as 
an  argument  for  a  divine  mission  or  authority  from 
heaven.  So  that,  upon  the  whole,  we  may  conclude, 
that  the  Christian  Religion  not  only  was  at  first  attended 
with  miracles,  but  even  at  this  day  cannot  be  believed 
by  any  reasonable  person  without  one.  Mere  reason 
is  insufficient  to  convince  us  of  its  veracity :  And  who- 
ever is  moved  by  Faith  to  assent  to  it,  is  conscious  of 
a  continued  miracle  in  his  own  person,  which  subverts 
all  the  principles  of  his  understanding,  and  gives  him 
a  determination  to  believe  what  is  most  contrary  tc5 
custom  and  experience. 


SECTION  XI. 

OF  A  PARTICULAR  PROVIDENCE  AND  OF  A  FUTURE 
STATE. 

I  WAS  lately  engaged  in  conversation  with  a  friend  ''^^^  4-  ^- 
who  loves  sceptical  paradoxes ;  where,  though  he 
advanced  many  principles,  of  which  I  can  by  no  means 
approve,  yet  as  they  seem  to  be  curious,  and  to  bear 
some  relation  to  the  chain  of  reasoning  carried  on 
throughout  this  enquiry,  I  shall  here  copy  them  from 
my  memory  as  accurately  as  I  can,  in  order  to  submit 
them  to  the  judgement  of  the  reader. 

Our  conversation  began  with  my  admiring  the  sin- 
gular good  fortune  of  philosophy,  which,  as  it  requires 
entire  liberty  above  all  other  privileges,  and  chiefly 
flourishes  from  the  free  opposition  of  sentiments  and 
argumentation,  received  its  first  birth  in  an  age  and 
Country  of  freedom  and  toleration,  and  was  never 
cramped,  even  in  its  most  extravagant  principles,  by 
any  creeds,  concessions,  or  penal  statutes.  For,  except 
the  banishment  of  Protagoras,  and  the  death  of  Soc- 
rates, which  last  event  proceeded  partly  from  other 
motives,  there  are  scarcely  any  instances  to  be  met 
with,  in  ancient  history,  of  this  bigotted  jealousy,  with 
which  the  present  age  is  so  much  infested.  Epicurus 
lived  at  Athens  to  an  advanced  age,  in  peace  and  tran- 
quillity: Epicureans^  were  even  admitted  to  receive 
the  sacerdotal  character,  and  to  officiate  at  the  altar, 

ILuciani  av/X7r.  rj  AanCBai, 


I40  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

in  the  most  sacred  rites  of  the  established  religion : 
And  the  public  encouragement  ^  of  pensions  and  sala- 
ries was  afforded  equally,  by  the  wisest  of  all  the 
Roman  emperors,  '^  to  the  professors  of  every  sect  of 
philosophy.  How  requisite  such  kind  of  treatment 
was  to  philosophy,  in  hgr  early  youth,  will  easily  be 
conceived,  if  we  reflect,  that,  even  at  present,  when 
she  may  be  supposed  more  hardy  and  robust,  she  bears 
with  much  difficulty  the  inclemency  of  Jthe  seasons, 
and  those  harsh  winds  of  calumny  and  persecution, 
which  blow  upon  her. 

You  admire,  says  my  friend,  as  the  singular  good 
fortune  of  philosophy,  what  seems  to  result  from  the 
natural  course  of  things,  and  to  be  unavoidable  in 
every  age  and  nation.  This  pertinacious  bigotry,  of 
which  you  complain,  as  so  fatal  to  philosophy,  is 
really  her  offspring,  who,  after  allying  with  supersti- 
tion, separates  himself  entirely  from  the  interest  of 
his  parent,  and  becomes  her  most  inveterate  enemy 
and  persecutor.  Speculative  dogmas  of  religion,  the 
present  occasions  of  such  furious  dispute,  could  not 
possibly  be  conceived  or  admitted  in  the  early  ages  of 
the  world;  when  mankind,  being  wholly  illiterate, 
formed  an  idea  of  religion  more  suitable  to  their  weak 
apprehension,  and  composed  their  sacred  tenets  of 
such  tales  chiefly  as  were  the  objects  of  traditional 
belief,  more  than  of  argument  or  disputation.  After 
the  first  alarm,  therefore,  was  over,  which  aroje  from 
the  new  paradoxes  and  principles  of  the  philosophers; 
these  teachers  seem  ever  after,  during  the  ages  of 
antiquity,  to  have  lived  in  great  harmony  with  the  es- 
tablished superstition,  and  to  have  made  a  fair  parti- 

\  Luciani  evrovxof  •  '  Luciani  and  Dio. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING  141 


tion  of  mankind  between  them ;  the  former  claiming 
all  the  learned  and  wise,  the  latter  possessing  all  the 
vulgar  and  illiterate. 

It  seems  then,  say  I,  that  you  leave  politics  entirely 
out  of  the  question,  and  never  suppose,  that  a  wise 
magistrate  can  justly  be  jealous  of  certain  tenets  of 
philosophy,  such  as  those  of  Epicurus,  which,  denying 
a  divine  existence,  and  consequently  a  providence  and 
a  future  state,  seem  to  loosen,  in  a  great  measure,  the 
ties  of  morality,  and  may  be  supposed,  for  that  reason, 
pernicious  to  the  peace  of  civil  society. 

I  know,  replied  he,  that  in  fact  these  persecutions 
never,  in  any  age,  proceeded  from  calm  reason,  or  from 
experience  of  the  pernicious  consequences  of  philos- 
ophy;  but  arose  entirely  from  passion  and  prejudice. 
But  what  if  I  should  advance  farther,  and  assert,  that 
if  Epicurus  had  been  accused  before  the  people,  by 
any  of  the  sycophants  or  informers  of  those  days,  he 
could  easily  have  defended  his  cause,  and  proved  his 
principles  of  philosophy  to  be  as  salutary  as  those  o^ 
his  adversaries,  who  endeavoured,  v/ith  such  zeal,  to 
expose  him  to  the  public  hatred  and  jealousy? 

I  wish,  said  I,  you  would  try  your  eloquence  upon 
so  extraordinary  a  topic,  and  make  a  speech  for  Epi- 
curus, which  might  satisfy,  not  the  mob  of  Athens,  if 
you  will  allow  that  ancient  and  polite  city  to  have  con- 
tained any  mob,  but  the  more  philosophical  part  of 
his  audience,  such  as  might  be  supposed  capable  of 
comprehending  his  arguments. 

The  matter  would  not  be  difficult,  upon  such  condi- 
tions, replied  he :  And  if  you  please,  I  shall  suppose 
myself  Epicurus  for  a  moment,  and  make  you  stand 
for  the  Athenian  people,  and  shall  deliver  you  such  an 
harangue  as  will  fill  all  the  urn  with  white  beans,  and 


143  AM  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

leave  not  a  black  one  to  gratify   the   malice   of  my 
adversaries. 

Very  well :  Pray  proceed  upon  these  suppositions. 

I  come  hither,  O  ye  Athenians,  to  justify  in  your 
assembly  what  I  maintained  in  my  school,  and  I  find 
myself  impeached  by  furious  antagonists,  instead  of 
reasoning  with  calm  and  dispassionate  enquirers.  Your 
deliberations,  which  of  right  should  be  directed  to 
questions  of  public  good,  and  the  interest  of  the  com- 
monwealth, are  diverted  to  the  disquisitions  of  spec- 
ulative philosophy;  and  these  magnificent,  but  per- 
haps fruitless  enquiries,  take  place  of  your  more  famil- 
iar but  more  useful  occupations.  But  so  far  as  in  me 
lies,  I  will  prevent  this  abuse.  We  shall  not  here  dis- 
pute concerning  the  origin  and  government  of  worlds. 
We  shall  only  enquire  how  far  such  questions  concern 
the  public  interest.  And  if  I  can  persuade  you,  that 
they  are  entirely  indifferent  to  the  peace  of  society  and 
security  of  government,  I  hope  that  you  will  presently 
send  us  back  to  our  schools,  there  to  examine,  at  lei- 
sure, the  question  the  most  sublime,  but  at  the  same 
time,  the  most  speculative  of  all  philosophy. 

The  religious  philosophers,  not  satisfied  with  the 
tradition  of  your  forefathers,  and  doctrine  of  your 
priests  (in  which  I  willingly  acquiesce),  indulge  a  rash 
curiosity,  in  trying  how  far  they  can  establish  religion 
upon  the  principles  of  reason;  and  they  thereby  excite, 
instead  of  satisfying,  the  doubts,  which  naturally  arise 
from  a  diligent  and  scrutinous  enquiry.  They  paint, 
in  the  most  magnificent  colours,  the  order,  beauty, 
and  wise  arrangement  of  the  universe ;  and  then  ask, 
if  such  a  glorious  display  of  intelligence  could  proceed 
from  the  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms,  or  if  chance 
could  produce  what  the  greatest  genius  can  never  suf- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  143 

ficiently  admire.  I  shall  not  examine  the  justness  of 
this  argument.  I  shall  allow  it  to  be  as  solid  as  my 
antagonists  and  accusers  can  desire.  It  is  sufficient, 
if  I  can  prove,  from  this  very  reasoning,  that  the  ques- 
tion is  entirely  speculative,  and  that,  when,  in  my  phi- 
losophical disquisitions,  I  deny  a  providence  and  a 
future  state,  I  undermine  not  the  foundations  of  soci- 
ety, but  advance  principles,  which  they  themselves, 
upon  their  own  topics,  if  they  argue  consistently,  must 
allow  to  be  solid  and  satisfactory. 

You  then,  who  are  my  accusers,  have  acknowledged^^ 
that  the  chief  or  sole  argument  for  a  divine  existence  \ 
(which  I  never  questioned)  is  derived  from  the  order 
of  nature ;  where  there  appear  such  marks  of  intelli- 
gence and  design,  that  you  think  it  extravagant  to  as- 
sign for  its  cause,  either  chance,  or  the  blind  and  un- 
guided  force  of  matter.  You  allow,  that  this  is  an"> 
argument  drawn  from  effects  to  causes.  From  the 
order  of  the  work,  you  infer,  that  there  must  have  been 
project  and  forethought  in  the  workman.  If  you  can- 
not make  out  this  point,  you  allow,  that  your  conclu- 
sion fails ;  and  you  pretend  not  to  establish  the  con- 
clusion in  a  greater  latitude  than  the  phenomena  of 
nature  will  justify.  These  are  your  concessions.  I 
desire  you  to  mark  the  consequences. 

I  When  we  infer  any  particular  cause  from  an  effect, 
we  must  proportion  the  one  to  the  other,  and  can  never 
be  allowed  to  ascribe  to  the  cause  any  qualities,  but 
what  are  exactly  sufficient  to  produce  the  effect.!  A 
body  of  ten  ounces  raised  in  any  scale  may  serve  as  a 
proof,  that  the  counterbalancing  weight  exceeds  ten 
ounces ;  but  can  never  afford  a  reason  that  it  exceeds 
a  hundred.  If  the  cause,  assigned  for  any  effect,  be 
not  sufficient  to  produce  it,  we  must  either  reject  that 


144  ^^  ^^Q  U^^  Y  CONCERNING 

cause,  or  add  to  it  such  qualities  as  will  give  it  a  just 
proportion  to  the  effect.  But  if  we  ascribe  to  it  further 
qualities,  or  affirm  it  capable  of  producing  other 
effects,  we  can  only  indulge  the  licence  of  conjecture, 
and  arbitrarily  suppose  the  existence  of  qualities  and 
energies,  without  reason  or  authority. 

The  same  rule  holds,  whether  the  cause  assigned 
be  brute  unconscious  matter,  or  a  rational  intelligent 
being.  If  the  cause  be  known  only  by  the  effect,  we 
never  ought  to  ascribe  to  it  any  qualities,  beyond  what 
are  precisely  requisite  to  produce  the  effect :  Nor  can 
we,  by  any  rules  of  just  reasoning,  return  back  from 
the  cause,  and  infer  other  effects  from  it,  beyond  those 
by  which  alone  it  is  known  to  us.  No  one,  merely 
from  the  sight  of  one  of  Zeuxis's  pictures,  could  know, 
that  he  was  also  a  statuary  or  architect,  and  was  an 
artist  no  less  skilful  in  stone  and  marble  than  in  col- 
ours. The  talents  and  taste,  displayed  in  the  partic- 
ular work  before  us;  these  we  may  safely  conclude 
the  workman  to  be  possessed  of.  The  cause  must  be 
proportioned  to  the  effect ;  and  if  we  exactly  and  pre- 
cisely proportion  it,  we  shall  never  find  in  it  any 
qualities,  that  point  farther,  or  afford  an  inference 
concerning  any  other  design  or  performance.  Such 
qualities  must  be  somewhat  beyond  what  is  merely 
requisite  for  producing  the  effect,  which  we  examine. 

Allowing,  therefore,  the  gods  to  be  the  authors  of 
the  existence  or  order  of  the  universe  \  it  follows,  that 
they  possess  that  precise  degree  of  power,  intelligence, 
and  benevolence,  which  appears  in  their  workmanship; 
but  nothing  farther  can  ever  be  proved,  except  we  call 
in  the  assistance  of  exaggeration  and  flattery  to  supply 
the  defects  of  argument  and  reasoning.  So  far  as  the 
traces  of  any  attributes,  at  present,  appear,  so  far  may 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  145 

we  conclude  these  attributes  to  exist.  The  supposition 
of  farther  attributes  is  mere  hypothesis ;  much  more 
the  supposition,  that,  in  distant  regions  of  space  or 
periods  of  time,  there  has  been,  or  will  be,  a  more  mag- 
nificent display  of  these  attributes,  and  a  scheme  of 
administration  more  suitable  to  such  imaginary  vir- 
tues. We  can  never  be  allowed  to  mount  up  from  the 
universe,  the  effect,  to  Jupiter,  the  cause ;  and  then 
descend  downwards,  to  infer  any  new  effect  from  that 
cause ;  as  if  the  present  effects  alone  were  not  entirely 
worthy  of  the  glorious  attributes,  which  we  ascribe  to 
that  deity.  The  knowledge  of  the  cause  being  derived 
solely  from  the  effect,  they  must  be  exactly  adjusted 
to  each  other;  and  the  one  can  never  refer  to  anything 
farther,  or  be  the  foundation  of  any  new  inference  and 
conclusion. 

You  find  certain  phenomena  in  nature.  You  seek 
a  cause  or  author.  You  imagine  that  you  have  found 
him.  You  afterwards  become  so  enamoured  of  this  off- 
spring of  your  brain,  that  you  imagine  it  impossible, 
but  he  must  produce  something  greater  and  more  per- 
fect than  the  present  scene  of  things,  which  is  so  full 
of  ill  and  disorder.  You  forget,  that  this  superlative 
intelligence  and  benevolence  are  entirely  imaginary, 
or,  at  least,  without  any  foundation  in  reason ;  and 
that  you  have  no  ground  to  ascribe  to  him  any  quali- 
ties, but  what  you  see  he  has  actually  exerted  and  dis- 
played in  his  productions.  Let  your  gods,  therefore, 
O  philosophers,  be  suited  to  the  present  appearances 
of  nature:  and  presume  not  to  alter  these  appearances 
by  arbitrary  suppositions,  in  order  to  suit  them  to  the 
attributes,  which  you  so  fondly  ascribe  to  your  deities. 

When  priests  and  poets,  supported  by  your  author- 
ity, O  Athenians,  talk  of  a  golden  or  silver  age,  which 


146  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

preceded  the  present  state  of  vice  and  misery,  I  hear 
them  with  attention  and  with  reverence.  But  when 
philosophers,  who  pretend  to  neglect  authority,  and 
to  cultivate  reason,  hold  the  same  discourse,  I  pay 
them  not,  I  own,  the  same  obsequious  submission  and 
pious  deference.  I  ask,  who  carried  them  into  the 
celestial  regions,  who  admitted  them  into  the  coun- 
cils of  the  gods,  who  opened  to  them  the  book  of  fate, 
that  they  thus  rashly  affirm,  that  their  deities  have 
executed,  or  will  execute,  any  purpose  beyond  what 
has  actually  appeared  ?  If  they  tell  me,  that  they  have 
mounted  on  the  steps  or  by  the  gradual  ascent  of 
reason,  and  by  drawing  inferences  from  effects  to 
causes,  I  still  insist,  that  they  have  aided  the  ascent 
of  reason  by  the  wings  of  imagination;  otherwise  they 
could  not  thus  change  their  manner  of  inference,  and 
argue  from  causes  to  effects  ;  presuming,  that  a  more 
perfect  production  than  the  present  world  would  be 
more  suitable  to  such  perfect  beings  as  the  gods,  and 
forgetting  that  they  have  no  reason  to  ascribe  to  these 
celestial  beings  any  perfection  or  any  attribute,  but 
what  can  be  found  in  the  present  world. 

Hence  all  the  fruitless  industry  to  account  for  the 
ill  appearances  of  nature,  and  save  the  honour  of  the 
gods ;  while  we  must  acknowledge  the  reality  of  that 
evil  and  disorder,  with  which  the  world  so  much 
abounds.  The  obstinate  and  intractable  qualities  of 
matter,  we  are  told,  or  the  observance  of  general  laws, 
or  some  such  reason,  is  the  sole  cause,  which  controlled 
the  power  and  benevolence  of  Jupiter,  and  obliged 
him  to  create  mankind  and  every  sensible  creature  so 
imperfect  and  so  unhappy.  These  attributes  then, 
are,  it  seems,  beforehand,  taken  for  granted,  in  their 
greatest  latitude.     And  upon  that  supposition,  I  own 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  147 

that  such  conjectures  may,  perhaps,  be  admitted  as 
plausible  solutions  of  the  ill  phenomena.  But  still  I 
ask.  Why  take  these  attributes  for  granted,  or  why 
ascribe  to  the  cause  any  qualities  but  what  actually 
appear  in  the  effect  ?  Why  torture  your  brain  to  jus- 
tify the  course  of  nature  upon  suppositions,  which,  for 
aught  you  know,  may  be  entirely  imaginary,  and  of 
which  there  are  to  be  found  no  traces  in  the  course  of 
nature  ? 

The  religious  hypothesis,  therefore,  must  be  con- 
sidered only  as  a  particular  method  of  accounting  for 
the  visible  phenomena  of  the  universe :  but  no  just 
reasoner  will  ever  presume  to  infer  from  it  any  single 
fact,  and  alter  or  add  to  the  phenomena,  in  any  single 
particular.  If  you  think,  that  the  appearances  of 
things  prove  such  causes,  it  is  allowable  for  you  to 
draw  an  inference  concerning  the  existence  of  these 
causes.  In  such  complicated  and  sublime  subjects, 
every  one  should  be  indulged  in  the  liberty  of  conjec- 
ture and  argument.  But  here  you  ought  to  rest.  If 
you  come  backward,  and  arguing  from  your  inferred 
causes,  conclude,  that  any  other  fact  has  existed,  or 
will  exist,  in  the  course  of  nature,  which  may  serve  as 
a  fuller  display  of  particular  attributes ;  I  must  ad- 
monish you,  that  you  have  departed  from  the  method 
of  reasoning,  attached  to  the  present  subject,  and 
have  certainly  added  something  to  the  attributes  of 
the  cause,  beyond  what  appears  in  the  effect ;  other- 
wise you  could  never,  with  tolerable  sense  or  pro- 
priety, add  anything  to  the  effect,  in  order  to  render 
it  more  worthy  of  the  cause. 

Where,  then,  is  the  odiousness  of  that  doctine, 
which  I  teach  in  my  school,  or  rather,  whicn  I  exam- 
ine in  my  gardens  ?     Or  what  do  you  find  in  this 


148  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

whole  question,  wherein  the  security  of  good  morals, 
or  the  peace  and  order  of  society,  is  in  the  least  con- 
cerned ? 

I  deny  a  providence,  you  say,  and  supreme  gov- 
ernor of  the  world,  who  guides  the  course  of  events, 
and  punishes  the  vicious  with  infamy  and  disappoint- 
ment, and  rewards  the  virtuous  with  honour  and  suc- 
cess, in  all  their  undertakings.  But  surely,  I  deny 
not  the  course  itself  of  events,  which  lies  open  to 
every  one's  inquiry  and  examination.  I  acknowledge, 
that,  in  the  present  order  of  things,  virtue  is  attended 
with  more  peace  of  mind  than  vice,  and  meets  with  a 
more  favourable  reception  from  the  world.  I  am  sen- 
sible, that,  according  to  the  past  experience  of  man- 
kind, friendship  is  the  chief  joy  of  human  life,  and 
moderation  the  only  source  of  tranquillity  and  happi- 
ness. I  never  balance  between  the  virtuous  and  the 
vicious  course  of  life;  but  am  sensible,  that,  to  a  well- 
disposed  mind,  every  advantage  is  on  the  side  of  the 
former.  And  what  can  you  say  more,  allowing  all 
your  suppositions  and  reasonings  ?  You  tell  me, 
indeed,  that  this  disposition  of  things  proceeds  from 
intelligence  and  design.  But  whatever  it  proceeds 
from,  the  disposition  itself,  on  which  depends  our 
happiness  or  misery,  and  consequently  our  conduct 
and  deportment  in  life  is  still  the  same.  It  is  still 
open  for  me,  as  well  as  you,  to  regulate  my  behaviour, 
by  my  experience  of  past  events.  And  if  you  affirm, 
that,  while  a  divine  providence  is  allowed,  and  a  su- 
preme distributive  justice  in  the  universe,  I  ought  to 
expect  some  more  particular  reward  of  the  good,  and 
punishment  of  the  bad,  beyond  the  ordinary  course  of 
events;  I  here  find  the  same  fallacy,  which  I  have 
before  endeavoured  to  detect.     You  persist  in  imagin- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  149 

ing,  that,  if  we  grant  that  divine  existence,  for  which 
you  so  earnestly  contend,  you  may  safely  infer  conse- 
quences from  it,  and  add  something  to  the  experienced 
order  of  nature,  by  arguing  from  the  attributes  which 
you  ascribe  to  your  gods.  You  seem  not  to  remember, 
that  all  your  reasonings  on  this  subject  can  only  be 
drawn  from  effects  to  causes;  and  that  every  argu- 
ment^ deducted  from  causes  to  effects,  must  of  neces- 
sity be  a  gross  sophism;  since  it  is  impossible  for  you 
to  know  anything  of  the  cause,  but  what  you  have 
antecedently,  not  inferred,  but  discovered  to  the  full, 
in  the  effect. 

But  what  must  a  philosopher  think  of  those  vain 
reasoners,  who,  instead  of  regarding  the  present  scene 
of  things  as  the  sole  object  of  their  contemplation,  so 
far  reverse  the  whole  course  of  nature,  as  to  render 
this  life  merely  a  passage  to  something  farther;  a 
porch,  which  leads  to  a  greater,  and  vastly  different 
building ;  a  prologue,  which  serves  only  to  introduce 
the  piece,  and  give  it  more  grace  and  propriety? 
Whence,  do  you  think,  can  such  philosophers  derive 
their  idea  of  the  gods?  From  their  own  conceit  and 
imagination  surely.  For  if  they  derived  it  from  the 
present  phenomena,  it  would  never  point  to  anything 
farther,  but  must  be  exactly  adjusted  to  them.  That 
the  divinity  may  possibly  be  endowed  with  attributes, 
which  we  have  never  seen  exerted ;  may  be  governed 
by  principles  of  action,  which  we  cannot  discover  to 
be  satisfied  :  all  this  will  freely  be  allowed.  But  still 
this  is  mere  possibility  and  hypothesis.  We  never  can 
have  reason  to  infer  any  attributes,  or  any  principles 
of  action  in  him,  but  so  far  as  we  know  them  to  have 
been  exerted  and  satisfied. 

Are  there  any  marks  of  a  distributive  justice  in  the 


I50  AN  ENQUIR  V  CONCERNING 

world  ?  If  you  answer  in  the  affirmative,  I  conclude, 
that,  since  justice  here  exerts  itself,  it  is  satisfied.  If 
you  reply  in  the  negative,  I  conclude,  that  you  have 
then  no  reason  to  ascribe  justice,  in  our  sense  of  it, 
to  the  gods.  If  you  hold  a  medium  between  affirma- 
tion and  negation,  by  saying,  that  the  justice  of  the 
gods,  at  present,  exerts  itself  in  part,  but  not  in  its  full 
extent;  I  answer,  that  you  have  no  reason  to  give  it 
any  particular  extent,  but  only  so  far  as  you  see  it,  at 
present,  exert  itself. 

Thus  I  bring  the  dispute,  O  Athenians,  to  a  short 
issue  with  my  antagonists.  The  course  of  nature  lies 
open  to  my  contemplation  as  well  as  to  theirs.  The 
experienced  train  of  events  is  the  great  standard,  by 
which  we  all  regulate  our  conduct.  Nothing  else  can 
be  appealed  to  in  the  field,  or  in  the  senate.  Nothing 
else  ought  ever  to  be  heard  of  in  the  school,  or  in  the 
closet.  In  vain  would  our  limited  understanding  break 
through  those  boundaries,  which  are  too  narrow  for 
our  fond  imagination.  While  we  argue  from  the  course 
of  nature,  and  infer  a  particular  intelligent  cause, 
which  first  bestowed,  and  still  preserves  order  in  the 
universe,  we  embrace  a  principle,  which  is  both  un- 
certain and  useless.  It  is  uncertain;  because  the  sub- 
ject lies  entirely  beyond  the  reach  of  human  experi- 
ence. It  is  useless ;  because  our  knowledge  of  this 
cause  being  derived  entirely  from  the  course  of  nature, 
we  can  never,  according  to  the  rules  of  just  reasoning, 
return  back  from  the  cause  with  any  new  inference, 
or  making  additions  to  the  common  and  experienced 
course  of  nature,  establish  any  new  principles  of  con- 
duct and  behaviour. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  15X 

I  observe  (said  I,  finding  he  had  finished  his  ha. 
rangue)  that  you  neglect  not  the  artifice  of  the  dema- 
gogues of  old ;  and  as  you  were  pleased  to  make  me 
stand  for  the  people,  you  insinuate  yourself  into  my 
favour  by  embracing  those  principles,  to  which,  you 
know,  I  have  always  expressed  a  particular  attach- 
ment. But  allowing  you  to  make  experience  (as  in- 
deed I  think  you  ought)  the  only  standard  of  our 
judgement  concerning  this,  and  all  other  questions  of 
fact ;  I  doubt  not  but,  from  the  very  same  experience, 
to  which  you  appeal,  it  may  be  possible  to  refute  this 
reasoning,  which  you  have  put  into  the  mouth  of  Epi- 
curus. If  you  saw,  for  instance,  a  half-finished  build- 
ing, surrounded  with  heaps  of  brick  and  stone  and 
mortar,  and  all  the  instruments  of  masonry;  could  you 
not  infer  from  the  effect,  that  it  was  a  work  of  design 
and  contrivance  ?  And  could  you  not  return  again, 
from  this  inferred  cause,  to  infer  new  additions  to  the 
effect,  and  conclude,  that  the  building  would  soon  be 
finished,  and  receive  all  the  further  improvements, 
which  art  could  bestow  upon  it  ?  If  you  saw  upon 
the  sea-shore  the  print  of  one  human  foot,  you  would 
conclude,  that  a  man  had  passed  that  way,  and  that 
he  had  also  left  the  traces  of  the  other  foot,  though 
effaced  by  the  rolling  of  the  sands  or  inundation  of  the 
waters.  Why  then  do  you  refuse  to  admit  the  same 
method  of  reasoning  with  regard  to  the  order  of  na- 
ture? Consider  the  world  and  the  present  life  only  as 
an  imperfect  building,  from  which  you  can  infer  a  su- 
perior intelligence;  and  arguing  from  that  superior 
intelligence,  which  can  leave  nothing  imperfect ;  why 
may  you  not  infer  a  more  finished  scheme  or  plan, 
which  will  receive  its  completion  in  some  distant  point 
of  space  or  time?   Are  not  these  methods  of  reasoning 


152 


AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 


exactly  similar?     Ahd  under  what  pretence  can  you 
embrace  the  one,  while  you  reject  the  other? 

The  infinite  difference  of  the  subjects,  replied  he, 
is  a  sufficient  foundation  for  this  difference  in  my  con- 
clusions. In  works  of  human  art  and  contrivance,  it  is 
allowable  to  advance  from  the  effect  to  the  cause,  and 
returning  back  from  the  cause,  to  form  new  inferences 
concerning  the  effect,  and  examine  the  alterations, 
which  it  has  probably  undergone,  or  may  still  undergo. 
But  what  is  the  foundation  of  this  method  of  reasoning? 
Plainly  this  :  that  man  is  a  being,  whom  we  know  by 
experience,  whose  motives  and  designs  we  are  ac- 
quainted with,  and  whose  projects  and  inclinations 
have  a  certain  connexion  and  coherence,  according  to 
the  laws  which  nature  has  established  for  the  govern- 
ment of  such  a  creature.  When,  therefore,  we  find, 
that  any  work  has  proceeded  from  the  skill  and  indus- 
try of  man ;  as  we  are  otherwise  acquainted  with  the 
nature  of  the  animal,  we  can  draw  a  hundred  infer- 
ences concerning  what  may  be  expected  from  him ; 
and  these  inferences  will  all  be  founded  in  experience 
and  observation.  But  did  we  know  man  only  from 
the  single  work  or  production  which  we  examine,  it 
were  impossible  for  us  to  argue  in  this  manner;  be- 
cause our  knowledge  of  all  the  qualities,  which  we 
ascribe  to  him,  being  in  that  case  derived  from  the 
production,  it  is  impossible  they  could  point  to  any- 
thing further,  or  be  the  foundation  of  any  new  infer- 
ence. The  print  of  a  foot  in  the  sand  can  only  prove, 
when  considered  alone,  that  there  was  some  figure 
adapted  to  it,  by  which  it  was  produced:  but  the  print 
of  a  human  foot  proves  likewise,  from  our  other  expe- 
rience, that  there  was  probably  another  foot,  which 
also  left  its  impression,   though  effaced  by  time   or 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING  153 

Other  accidents.  Here  we  mount  from  the  effect  to 
the  cause;  and  descending  again  from  the  cause,  infer 
alterations  in  the  effect  \  but  this  is  not  a  continuation 
of  the  same  simple  chain  of  reasoning.  We  compre- 
hend in  this  case  a  hundred  other  experiences  and 
observations,  concerning  the  usual  figure  and  members 
of  that  species  of  animal,  without  which  this  method 
of  argument  must  be  considered  as  fallacious  and 
sophistical. 

The  case  is  not  the  same  with  our  reasonings  from 
the  works  of  nature.  The  Deity  is  known  to  us  only 
by  his  productions,  and  is  a  single  being  in  the  uni- 
verse, not  comprehended  under  any  species  or  genus, 
from  whose  experienced  attributes  or  qualities,  we  can, 
by  analogy,  infer  any  attribute  or  quality  in  him.  As 
the  universe  shews  wisdom  and  goodness,  we  infer 
wisdom  and  goodness.  As  it  shews  a  particular  de- 
gree of  these  perfections,  we  infer  a  particular  degree 
of  them,  precisely  adapted  to  the  effect  which  we  ex- 
amine. But  further  attributes  or  further  degrees  of 
the  same  attributes,  we  can  never  be  authorised  to 
infer  or  suppose,  by  any  rules  of  just  reasoning.  Now, 
without  some  such  license  of  supposition,  it  is  impos- 
sible for  us  to  argue  from  the  cause,  or  infer  any  alter- 
ation in  the  effect,  beyond  what  has  immediately  fallen 
under  our  observation.  Greater  good  produced  by 
this  Being  must  still  prove  a  greater  degree  of  good- 
ness :  a  more  impartial  distribution  of  rewards  and 
punishments  must  proceed  from  a  greater  regard  to 
justice  and  equity.  Every  supposed  addition  to  the 
works  of  nature  makes  an  addition  to  the  attributes  of 
the  Author  of  nature;  and  consequently,  being  en- 
tirely unsupported  by  any  reason  or  argument,  can 


\ 


154  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

never  be  admitted  but  as  mere   conjecture   and  hy' 
pothesis.^ 

'  The  great  source  of  our  mistake  in  this  subject, 
and  of  the  unbounded  licence  of  conjecture,  which  we 
indulge,  is,  that  we  tacitly  consider  ourselves,  as  in 
the  place  of  the  Supreme  Being,  and  conclude,  that 
he  will,  on  every  occasion,  observe  the  same  conduct, 
which  we  ourselves,  in  his  situation,  would  have  em- 
braced as  reasonable  and  eligible.  But,  besides  that 
the  ordinary  course  of  nature  may  convince  us,  that 
almost  everything  is  regulated  by  principles  and  max- 
ims very  different  from  ours;  besides  this,  I  say,  it 
must  evidently  appear  contrary  to  all  rules  of  analogy 
to  reason,  from  the  intentions  and  project  of  men,  tos 
those  of  a  Being  so  different,  and  so  much  superior. 
In  human  nature,  there  is  a  certain  experienced  co- 
herence of  designs  and  inclinations;  so  that  when, 
from  any  fact,  we  have  discovered  one  intention  of 
any  man,  it  may  often  be  reasonable,  from  experience, 
to  infer  another,  and  draw  a  long  chain  of  conclusions 
concerning   his   past   or   future   conduct.       But   this 

1  In  general,  it  may,  I  think,  be  established  as  a  maxim,  that  where  any 
cause  is  known  only  by  its  particular  effects,  it  must  be  impossible  to  infer 
any  new  effects  from  that  cause;  since  the  qualities,  which  are  requisite  to 
produce  these  new  effects  along  with  the  former,  must  either  be  different,  or 
superior,  or  of  more  extensive  operation,  than  those  which  simply  produced 
the  effect,  whence  alone  the  cause  is  supposed  to  be  known  to  us.  We  can 
never,  therefore,  have  any  reason  to  suppose  the  existence  of  these  qualities. 
To  say,  that  the  new  effects  proceed  only  from  a  continuation  of  the  same 
energy,  which  is  already  known  from  the  first  effects,  will  not  remove  the 
difficulty.  For  even  granting  this  to  be  the  case  (which  can  seldom  be  sup- 
posed), the  very  continuation  and  exertion  of  a  like  energy  (for  it  is  impos- 
sible it  can  be  absolutely  the  same),  I  say,  this  exertion  of  a  like  energy,  in  a 
different  period  of  space  and  time,  is  a  very  arbitrary  supposition,  and  what 
there  cannot  possibly  be  any  traces  of  in  the  effects,  from  winch  all  our 
knowledge  of  the  cause  is  originally  derived.  Let  the  inferred  cause  be 
exactly  proportioned  (as  it  should  be)  to  the  known  effect ;  and  it  is  impos- 
sible that  it  can  possess  any  qualities,  from  which  new  or  different  effects  can 
be  inferred. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  155 

method  of  reasoning  can  never  have  place  with  regard 
to  a  Being,  so  remote  and  incomprehensible,  who 
bears  much  less  analogy  to  any  other  being  in  the  uni- 
verse than  the  sun  to  a  waxen  taper,  and  who  dis- 
covers himself  only  by  some  faint  traces  or  outlines, 
beyond  which  we  have  no  authority  to  ascribe  to  him 
any  attribute  or  perfection.  What  we  imagine  to  be 
a  superior  perfection,  may  really  be  a  defect.  Or  were 
it  ever  so  much  a  perfection,  the  ascribing  of  it  to  the 
Supreme  Being,  where  it  appears  not  to  have  been 
really  exerted,  to  the  full,  in  his  works,  savours  more 
of  flattery  and  panegyric,  than  of  just  reasoning  and 
sound  philosophy.  All  the  philosophy,  therefore,  in 
the  world,  and  all  the  religion,  which  is  nothing  but  a 
species  of  philosophy,  will  never  be  able  to  carry  us 
beyond  the  usaal  course  of  experience,  or  give  us 
measures  of  conduct  and  behaviour  different  from 
those  which  are  furnished  by  reflections  on  common 
life.  No  new  fact  can  ever  be  inferred  from  the  reli- 
gious hypothesis ;  no  event  foreseen  or  foretold ;  no 
reward  or  punishment  expected  or  dreaded,  beyond 
what  is  already  known  by  practice  and  observation. 
So  that  my  apology  for  Epicurus  will  still  appear 
solid  and  satisfactory ;  nor  have  the  political  interests 
of  society  any  connexion  with  the  philosophical  dis- 
putes concerning  metaphysics  and  religion. 

There  is  still  one  circumstance,  replied  I,  which 
you  seem  to  have  overlooked.  Though  I  should  allow 
your  premises,  I  must  deny  your  conclusion.  You 
conclude,  that  religious  doctrines  and  reasonings  can 
have  no  influence  on  life,  because  they  ought  to  have 
no  influence ;  never  considering,  that  men  reason  not 
in  the  same  manner  you  do,  but  draw  many  conse- 
quences from  the  belief  of  a  divine  Existence,  and  sup- 


156  A17  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

pose  that  the  Deity  will  inflict  punishments  on  vice, 
and  bestow  rewards  on  virtue,  beyond  what  appear  in 
the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  Whether  this  reason- 
ing of  theirs  be  just  or  not,  is  no  matter.  Its  influence 
on  their  life  and  conduct  must  still  be  the  same.  And, 
those,  who  attempt  to  disabuse  them  of  such  preju- 
dices, may,  for  aught  I  know,  be  good  reasoners,  but  I 
cannot  allow  them  to  be  good  citizens  and  politicians; 
since  they  free  men  from  one  restraint  upon  their  pas- 
sions, and  make  the  infringement  of  the  laws  of  soci- 
ety, in  one  respect,  more  easy  and  secure. 

After  all,  I  may,  perhaps,  agree  to  your  general 
conclusion  in  favour  of  liberty,  though  upon  different 
premises  from  those,  on  which  you  endeavour  to  found 
it.  I  think,  that  the  state  ought  to  tolerate  every 
principle  of  philosophy;  nor  is  there  an  instance,  that 
any  government  has  suffered  in  its  political  interests 
by  such  indulgence.  There  is  no  enthusiasm  among 
philosophers ;  their  doctrines  are  not  very  alluring  to 
the  people ;  and  no  restraint  can  be  put  upon  their 
reasonings,  but  what  must  be  of  dangerous  conse- 
quence to  the  sciences,  and  even  to  the  state,  by  pav- 
ing the  way  for  persecution  and  oppression  in  points, 
where  the  generality  of  mankind  are  more  deeply  in- 
terested and  concerned. 

But  there  occurs  to  me  (continued  I)  with  regard 
to  your  main  topic,  a  difficulty,  which  I  shall  just  pro- 
pose to  you  without  insisting  on  it ;  lest  it  lead  into 
reasonings  of  too  nice  and  delicate  a  nature.  In  a 
word,  I  much  doubt  whether  it  be  possible  for  a  cause 
to  be  known  only  by  its  effect  (as  you  have  all  along 
supposed)  or  to  be  of  so  singular  and  particular  a  na- 
ture as  to  have  no  parallel  and  no  similarity  with  any 
other  cause  or  object,  that  has  ever  fallen  under  our 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING  157 

observation  J  It  is  only  when  two  species  of  objects  are 
found  to  be  constantly  conjoined,  that  we  can  infer 
the  one  from  the  other ;  and  were  an  effect  presented, 
which  was  entirely  singular,  and  could  not  be  compre- 
hended under  any  known  species,  I  do  not  see,  that  we 
could  form  any  conjecture  or  inference  at  all  concern- 
ing its  cause.  If  experience  and  observation  and 
analogy  be,  indeed,  the  only  guides  which  we  can  rea- 
sonably follow  in  inferences  of  this  nature ;  both  the 
effect  and  cause  must  bear  a  similarity  and  resemblance 
to  other  effects  and  causes,  which  we  know,  and  which 
we  have  found,  in  many  instances,  to  be  conjoined 
with  each  other.  I  leave  it  to  your  own  reflection  to 
pursue  the  consequences  of  th'is  principle.  I  shall  just 
observe,  that,  as  the  antagonists  of  Epicurus  always 
suppose  the  universe,  an  effect  quite  singular  and  un- 
paralleled, to  be  the  proof  of  a  Deity,  a  cause  no  less 
singular  and  unparalleled ;  your  reasonings,  upon  that 
supposition,  seem,  at  least,  to  merit  our  attention. 
There  is,  I  own,  some  difficulty,  how  we  can  ever  re- 
turn from  the  cause  to  the  effect,  and,  reasoning  from 
our  ideas  of  the  former,  infer  any  alteration  on  the 
latter,  or  any  addition  to  it. 


SECTION  XII. 

OF  THE  ACADEMICAL  OR  SCEPTICAL  PHILOSOPHy 

Part  I. 

THERE  is  not  a  greater  number  of  philosophical 
reasonings,  displayed  upon  any  subject,  than 
those,  which  prove  the  existence  of  a  Deity,  and  refute 
the  fallacies  of  Atheists',  and  yet  the  most  religious 
philosophers  still  dispute  whether  any  man  can  be  so 
blinded  as  to  be  a  speculative  atheist.  How  shall  we 
reconcile  these  contraditions?  The  knights-errant, 
who  wandered  about  to  clear  the  world  of  dragons  and 
giants,  never  entertained  the  least  doubt  with  regard 
to  the  existence  of  these  monsters. 

The  Sceptic  is  another  enemy  of  religion,  who  nat- 
urally provokes  the  indignation  of  all  divines  and 
graver  philosophers ;  though  it  is  certain,  that  no  man 
ever  met  with  any  such  absurd  creature,  or  conversed 
with  a  man,  who  had  no  opinion  or  principle  concern- 
ing any  subject,  either  of  action,^  speculation.  This 
begets  a  very  natural  question  j  What  is  meant  by  a 
sceptic?  And  how  far  is  it  possible  to  push  these  phil- 
osophical principles  of  doubt  and  uncertainty  ?_' 

There  is  a  species  of  scepticism,  antecedent  to  all 
study  and  philosophy,  which  is  much  inculcated  by 
Des  Cartes  and  others,  as  a  sovereign  preservative 
against  error  and  precipitate  judgement.  It  recom- 
mends an  universal  doubt,  not  only  of  all  our  former 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  159 

opinions  and  principles,  but  also  of  our  very  faculties; 
of  whose  veracity,  say  they,  we  must  assure  ourselves, 
by  a  chain  of  reasoning,  deduced  from  some  original 
principle,  which  cannot  possibly  be  fallacious  or  de-    | 
ceitful.  \  But  neither  is  there  any  such  original  prin- 
ciple, which  has  a  prerogative  above  others,  that  are 
self-evident  and  convincing :  or  if  there  were,  could 
we  advance  a  step  beyond  it,  but  by  the  use  of  those 
very  faculties,  of  which  we  are  supposed  to  be  already 
diffident.     The  Cartesian  doubt,  therefore,  were  it  ever 
possible  to  be  attamed  by  any  human  creature  (as  it/i 
plainly  is  not)  would  be  entirely  incurable;  and  no    ' 
reasoning  could  ever  bring  us  to  a  state  of  assurance 
and  conviction  upon  any  subject. 

It  must,  however,  be  confessed,  that  this  species 
of  scepticism,  when  more  moderate,  may  be  understood 
in  a  very  reasonable  sense,  and  is  a  necessary  prepar- 
ative to  the  study  of  philosophy,  by  preserving  a  proper 
impartiality  in  our  judgements,  and  weaning  our  mind 
from  all  those  prejudices,  which  we  may  have  imbibed 
from  education  or  rash  opinion.  To  begin  with  clear 
and  self-evident  principles,  to  advance  by  timorous 
and  sure  steps,  to  review  frequently  our  conclusions, 
and  examine  accurately  all  their  consequences;  though 
by  these  means  we  shall  make  both  a  slow  and  a  short 
progress  in  our  systems ;  are  the  only  methods,  by 
which  we  can  ever  hope  to  reach  truth,  and  attain  a 
proper  stability  and  certainty  in  our  determinations. 

There  is  another  species  of  scepticism,  consequent 
to  science  and  enquiry,  when  men  are  supposed  to 
have  discovered  either  the  absolute  fallaciousness  of 
their  mental  faculties,  or  their  unfitness  to  reach  any 
fixed  determination  in  all  those  curious  subjects  of 
speculation,   about   which  they  are  commonly  em- 


i 


x6o  Air  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

ployed.  Even  our  very  senses  are  brought  into  dis- 
pute, by  a  certain  species  of  philosophers;  and  the 
maxims  of  common  life  are  subjected  to  the  same 
doubt  as  the  most  profound  principles  or  conclusions 
of  metaphysics  and  theology.  As  these  paradoxical 
tenets  (if  they  may  be  called  tenets)  are  to  be  met  w^ith 
in  some  philosophers,  and  the  refutation  of  them  in 
several,  they  naturally  excite  our  curiosity,  and  make 
us  enquire  into  the  arguments,  on  which  they  may  be 
founded. 

/  I  need  not  insist  upon  the  more  trite  topics,  em- 
ployed by  the  sceptics  in  all  ages,  against  the  evidence 
of  sense;  such  as  those  which  are  derived  from  the  im- 
perfection and  fallaciousness  of  our  organs,  on  num- 
berless occasions ;  the  crooked  appearance  of  an  oar 
in  water;  the  various  aspects  of  objects,  according  to 
their  different  distances;  the  double  images  which 
arise  from  the  pressing  one  eye;  with  many  other 
iappearances  of  a  like  nature.  These  sceptical  topics, 
lindeed,  are  only  sufficient  to  prove,  that  the  senses 
'alone  are  not  implicitly  to  be  depended  on;  but  that 
we  must  correct  their  evidence  by  reason,  and  by  con- 
siderations, derived  from  the  nature  of  the  medium, 
the  distance  of  the  object,  and  the  disposition  of  the 
organ,  in  order  to  render  them,  within  their  sphere, 
the  proper  criteria  of  truth  and  falsehood.  There  are 
other  more  profound  arguments  against  the  senses, 
which  admit  not  of  so  easy  a  solution. 

It  seems  evident,  that  men  are  carried,  by  a  natural 
instinct  or  prepossession,  to  repose  faith  in  their 
senses ;  and  that,  without  any  reasoning,  or  even  al- 
most before  the  use  of  reason,  iwe  always  suppose  an 
external  universe,  which  depends  not  on  our  percep- 
,   1  tion,  but  would  exist,  though  we  and  every  sensible 


I 


HUMAN'  UNDERSTANDING,  i6i 

creature  were  absent  or  annihilated.  Even  the  animal 
creation  are  governed  by  a  like  opinion,  and  preserve 
this  belief  of  external  objects,  in  all  their  thoughts, 
designs,  and  actions. 

It  seems  also  evident,  that,  when  men  follow  this 
blind  and  powerful  instinct  of  nature,  they  always 
suppose  the  very  images,  presented  by  the  senses,  to 
be  the  external  objects,  and  never  entertain  any  sus- 
picion, that  the  one  are  nothing  but  representations  of 
the  other.  This  very  table,  which  we  see  white,  and 
f^hich  we  feel  hard,  is  believed  to  exist,  independent 
of  our  perception,  and  to  be  something  external  to  our 
mind,  which  perceives  it.  Our  presence  bestows  not 
being  on  it :  our  absence  does  not  annihilate  it.  It 
preserves  its  existence  uniform  and  entire,  independ- 
ent of  the  situation  of  intelligent  beings,  who  perceive 
or  contemplate  it. 

But  this  universal  and  primary  opinion  of  all  men 
is  soon  destroyed  by  the  slightest  philosophy,  which 
teaches  us,  that]'nothing  can  ever  be  present  to  the 
mind  but  an  image  or  perception]  and  that  the  senses 
are  only  the  inlets,  through  wliich  these  images  are 
conveyed,  without  being  able  to  produce  any  immedi- 
ate intercourse  between  the  mind  and  the  object.  The 
table,  which  we  see,  seems  to  diminish,  as  we  remove 
farther  from  it :  but  the  real  table,  which  exists  inde- 
pendent of  us,  suffers  no  alteration  :  it  was,  therefore, 
nothing  but  its  image,  which  was  present  to  the  mind. 
These  are  the  obvious  dictates  of  reason;  and  no  man, 
who  reflects,  ever  doubted,  that  the  existences,  which 
we  consider,  when  we  say,  this  house  and  that  treCy  are 
nothing  but  perceptions  in  the  mind,  and  fleeting 
copies  or  representations  of  other  existences,  which 
remain  uniform  and  independent. 


i6a  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

So  far,  then,  are  we  necessitated  by  reasoning  to 
contradict  or  depart  from  the  primary  instincts  of  na- 
ture, and  to  embrace  a  new  system  with  regard  to  the 
evidence  of  our  senses.  But  here  philosophy  finds 
herself  extremely  embarrassed,  when  she  would  justify 
this  new  system,  and  obviate  the  cavils  and  objections 
of  the  sceptics.  She  can  no  longer  plead  the  infallible 
and  irresistible  Instinct  of  nature  :  for  that  led  us  to  a 
quite  different  system,  which  is  acknowledged  fallible 
and  even  erroneous.  And  to  justify  this  pretended 
philosophical  system,  by  a  chain  of  clear  and  convin- 
cing argument,  or  even  any  appearance  of  argument, 
exceeds  the  power  of  all  human  capacity. 

By  what  argument  can  it  be  proved,  that  the  percep. 
1  tlons  of  the  mind  must  be  caused  by  external  obiects, 
I  entirely  different  from  them,  though  resembling  them 
(if  that  be  possible)  and  could  not  arise  either  from 
the  energy  of  the  mind  Itself,  or  from  the  suggestion 
of  some  invisible  and  unknown  spirit,  or  from  some 
other  cause  still  more  unknown  to  us?  It  is  acknowl- 
edged, that,  in  fact,  many  of  these  perceptions  arise 
not  from  anything  external,  as  in  dreams,  madness, 
and  other  diseases.  And  nothing  can  be  more  expli- 
cable than  the  manner,  in  which  body  should  so  op- 
erate upon  mind  as  ever  to  convey  an  Image  of  itself 
to  a  substance,  supposed  of  so  different,  and  even 
contrary  a  nature. 

It  is  a  question  of  fact,  whether  the  perceptions  of 
the  senses  be  produced  by  external  objects,  resem- 
I  bling  them  :  how  shall  this  question  be  determined  ? 
By  experience  surely ;  as  all  other  questions  of  a  like 
nature.  But  here  experience  is,  and  must  be  entirely 
silent.  The  mind  has  never  anything  present  to  it  but 
the  perceptions,  and  cannot  possibly  reach  any  expe- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  163 


;/ 


rience  of  their  connexion  with  objects.  The  supposi- 
tion of  such  a  connexion  is,  therefore,  without  any, 
foundation  in  reasoning. 

To  have  recourse  to  the  veracity  of  the  supreme 
Being,  in  order  to  prove  the  veracity  of  our  senses,  is 
surely  making  a  very  unexpected  circuit.  If  his  vera- 
city were  at  all  concerned  in  this  matter,  our  senses 
would  be  entirely  infallible;  because  it  is  not  possible 
that  he  can  ever  deceive.  Not  to  mention,  that,  i|[Jhe 
external  world  be  once  called  in  question,  we  shall  be 
ata  loss  to  find  arguments,  by  which  we  may  prove 
the  existence  of  that  Being  or  any  of  his  attributes. 

This  is  a  topic,  therefore,  in  which  the  profounder 
and  more  philosophical  sceptics  will  always  triumph, 
when  they  endeavour  to  introduce  an  universal  doubt 
into  all  subjects  of  human  knowledge  and  enquiry. 
Do  you  follow  the  instincts  and  propensities  of  nature, 
may  they  say,  in  assenting  to  the  veracity  of  sense  ? 
But  these  lead  you  to  believe  that  the  very  perception 
or  sensible  image  is  the  external  object.  Do  you  dis- 
claim this  principle,  in  order  to  embrace  a  more  ra- 
tional opinion,  that  the  perceptions  are  only  represen 
tations  of  something  external?  You  here  depart  from 
your  natural  propensities  and  more  obvious  sentiments; 
and  yet  are  not  able  to  satisfy  your  reason,  which  can 
never  find  any  convincing  argument  from  experience 
to  prove,  that  the  perceptions  are  connected  with  any  ] 
external  objects.  -^ 

There  is  another  sceptical  topic  of  a  like  nature, 
derived  from  the  most  profound  philosophy;  which 
might  merit  our  attention,  were  it  requisite  to  dive  so 
deep,  in  order  to  discover  arguments  and  reasonings, 
which  can  so  little  serve  to  any  serious  purpose.  It 
is  universally  allowed  by  modern  enquirers,  that  aW 


JJ^ 


V"" 


164  AN-  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

the  sensible  qualities  of  objects,  such  as  hard,  soft,  hot, 
cold,  white,  black,  &c.  are  merely  secondary,  and  exist 
not  in  the  objects  themselves,  but  are  perceptions  of 
the  mind,  without  any  external  archetype  or  model, 
which  they  represent.  If  this  be  allowed,  with  regard 
to  secondary  qualities,  it  must  also  follow,  with  regard 
to  the  supposed  primary  qualities  of  extension  and 
solidity;  nor  can  the  latter  be  any  more  entitled  to 
that  denomination  than  the  former.  The  idea  of  ex- 
tension is  entirely  acquired  from  the  senses  of  sight 
and  feeling ;  and  if  all  the  qualities,  perceived  by  tne 
senses,  be  in  the  mind,  not  in  the  object,  the  same 
conclusion  must  reach  the  idea  of  extension,  which  is 
wholly  dependent  on  the  sensible  ideas  or  the  ideas 
of  secondary  qualities.  Nothing  can  save  us  from  this 
conclusion,  but  the  asserting,  that  the  ideas  of  those 
primary  qualities  are  attained  by  Abstraction^  an  opin- 
ion, which,  if  we  examine  it  accurately,  we  shall  find 
to  be  unintelligible,  and  even  absurd.  An  extension, 
that  is  neither  tangible  nor  visible,  cannot  possibly  be 
conceived :  and  a  tangible  or  visible  extension,  which 
is  neither  hard  nor  soft,  black  or  white,  isjequally  be- 
yond the  reach  of  human  conception.  /Let  any  man 
try  to  conceive  a  triangle  in  general,  which  is  neither 
Isosceles  nor  Scalenum,  nor  has  any  particular  length 
or  proportion  of  sides ;  and  he  will  soon  perceive  the 
absurdity  of  all  the  scholastic  notions  with  regard  to 
abstraction  and  general  ideas.  ^ 

IThis  argument  is  drawn  from  Dr.  Berkeley;  and  indeed  most  of  the 
writings  of  that  very  ingenious  author  form  the  best  lessons  of  scepticism, 
which  are  to  be  found  either  among  the  ancient  or  modern  philosophers. 
Bayle  not  excepted.  He  professes,  however,  in  his  title-page  (and  undoubt- 
edly with  great  truth)  to  have  composed  his  book  against  the  sceptics  as  well 
as  against  the  atheists  and  free-thinkers.  But  that  all  his  arguments,  though 
otherwise  intended,  are,  in  reality,  merely  sceptical,  appears  from  this,  that 
they  admit  o/no  answer  and  produce  no  conviction.    Their  only  effect  is  to 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  165 

Thus  the  first  philosophical  objection  to  the  evi- 
dence of  sense  or  to  the  opinion  of  external  existence    v,j 
consists  in  this,  that  such  an  opinion,  if  rested  on  nat- 
ural instinct,  is  contrary  to  reason,  and  if  referred  to 
reason,  is  contrary  to  natural  instinct,  and  at  the  same 
time  carries  no  rational  evidence  with  it,  to  convince 
an  impartial  enquirer.     The   second   objection   goes 
farther,   and  represents  this   opinion  as  contrary  to 
reason  :  at  least,  if  it  be  a  principle  of  reason,  that  all 
sensible  qualities  are  in  the  mind,  not  in  the  object. 
Bereave  matter  of  all  its  intelligible  qualities,  both 
primary  and  secondary,  you  in  a  manner  annihilate    , 
it,  and  leave  only  a  certain  unknown,  inexplicable    i 
something,  as  the  cause  of  our  perceptions ;  a  notion    j 
so  imperfect,  that  no  sceptic  will  think  it  worth  while 
to  contend  against  it. 

.     .       •  \ 

Part  II. 

It  may  seem  a  very  extravagant  attempt  of  the 
sceptics  to  destroy  reason  by  argument  and  ratiocina- 
tion ;  yet  is  this  the  grand  scope  of  all  their  enquiries 
and  disputes.  They  endeavour  to  find  objections, 
both  to  our  abstract  reasonings,  and  to  those  which 
regard  matter  of  fact  and  existence. 

The  chief  objection  against  all  abstract  reasonings 
is  derived  from  the  ideas  of  space  and  time ;  ideas, 
which,  in  common  life  and  to  a  careless  view,  are  very 
clear  and  intelligible,  but  when  they  pass  through  the 
scrutiny  of  the  profound  sciences  (and  they  are  the 
chief  object  of  these  sciences)  afford  principles,  which 
seem  full  of  absurdity  and  contradiction.    No  priestly 

cause  that  momentary  amazement  and  irresolution  and  confusion,  which  is 
the  result  of  scepticism. 


i66  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

dogmas^  invented  on  purpose  to  tame  and  subdue  the 
rebellious  reason  of  mankind,  ever  shocked  common 
sense  more  than  the  doctrine  of  the  infinite  divisibil- 
ity of  extension,  with  its  consequences;  as  they  are 
pompously  displayed  by  all  geometricians  and  meta- 
physicians, with  a  kind  of  triumph  and  exultation.  A 
real  quantity,  infinitely  less  than  any  finite  quantity, 
containing  quantities  infinitely  less  than  itself,  and  so 
on  in  infinitum ;  this  is  an  edifice  so  bold  and  prodig- 
ious, that  it  is  too  weighty  for  any  pretended  demon- 
stration to  support,  because  it  shocks  the  clearest  and 
most  natural  principles  of  human  reason.^  But  what 
renders  the  matter  more  extraordinary,  is,  that  these 
seemingly  absurd  opinions  are  supported  by  a  chain 
of  reasoning,  the  clearest  and  most  natural;  nor  is  it 
possible  for  us  to  allow  the  premises  without  admit- 
ting the  consequences.  Nothing  can  be  more  convin- 
cing and  satisfactory  than  all  the  conclusions  concern- 
ing the  properties  of  circles  and  triangles ;  and  yet» 
when  these  are  once  received,  how  can  we  deny,  that 
the  angle  of  contact  between  a  circle  and  its  tangent 
is  infinitely  less  than  any  rectilineal  angle,  that  as  you 
may  increase  the  diameter  of  the  circle  in  infinitum^ 
this  angle  of  contact  becomes  still  less,  even  in  infini- 
tum, and  that  the  angle  of  contact  between  other  curves 
and  their  tangents  may  be  infinitely  less  than  those 
between  any  circle  and  its  tangent,  and  so  on,  in  infi- 


1  Whatever  disputes  there  may  be  about  mathematical  points^-'we  must 
allow  that  there  are  physical  points;  that  is,  parts  of  extension,  which  cannot 
be  divided  or  lessened,  either  by  the  eye  or  imagination. '  These  images, 
then,  which  are  present  to  the  fancy  or  senses,  are  absolutely  indivisible,  and 
consequently  must  be  allowed  by  mathematicians  to  be  infinitely  less  than 
any  real  part  of  extension ;  and  yet  nothing  appears  more  certain  to  reason, 
than  that  an  infinite  number  of  them  composes  an  infinite  extension.  How 
much  more  an  infinite  number  of  those  infinitely  small  parts  of  extension* 
which  are  still  supposed  infinitely  divisible.  - 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING,  167 

nitum  ?  The  demonstration  of  these  principles  seems 
as  unexceptionable  as  that  which  proves  the  three 
angles  of  a  triangle  to  be  equal  to  two  right  ones, 
though  the  latter  opinion  be  natural  and  easy,  and  the 
former  big  with  contradiction  and  absurdity.  Reason 
here  seems  to  be  thrown  into  a  kind  of  amazement  and 
suspence,  which,  without  the  suggestions  of  any  scep- 
tic, gives  her  a  diffidence  of  herself,  and  of  the  ground 
on  which  she  treads.  She  sees  a  full  light,  which  illu- 
minates certain  places ;  but  that  light  borders  upon 
the  most  profound  darkness.  And  between  these  she 
is  so  dazzled  and  confounded,  that  she  scarcely  can 
pronounce  with  certainty  and  assurance  concerning 
any  one  object. 

The  absurdity  of  these  bold  determinations  of  the 
abstract  sciences  seems  to  become,  if  possible,  still 
more  palpable  with  regard  to  time  than  extension. 
An  infinite  number  of  real  parts  of  time,  passing  in 
succession,  and  exhausted  one  after  another,  appears 
so  evident  a  contradiction,  that  no  man,  one  should 
think,  whose  judgement  is  not  corrupted,  instead  of 
being  improved,  by  the  sciences,  would  ever  be  able 
to  admit  of  it. 

Yet  still  reason  must  remain  restless,  and  unquiet, 
even  with  regard  to  that  scepticism,  to  which  she  is 
driven  by  these  seeming  absurdities  and  contradic- 
tions. How  any  clear,  distinct  idea  can  contain  cir- 
cumstances, contradictory  to  itself,  or  to  any  other 
clear,  distinct  idea,  is  absolutely  incomprehensible; 
and  is,  perhaps,  as  absurd  as  any  proposition,  which 
can  be  formed.  So  that  nothing  can  be  more  scep- 
tical, or  more  full  of  doubt  and  hesitation,  than  this 
scepticism  itself,  which  arises  *rom  some  of  the  par- 


i 


z68  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

adoxicai   conclusions   of   geometry  or  the  science  of 
quantity.^ 

The  sceptical  objections  to  moral  evidence,  or  to 
the  reasonings  concerning  matter  of  fact,  are  either 
popular  or  philosophical  The  popular  objections  are 
derived  from  the  natural  weakness  of  human  under- 
standing; the  contradictory  opinions,  which  have  been 
entertained  in  different  ages  and  nations ;  the  varia- 
tions of  our  judgement  in  sickness  and  health,  youth 
and  old  age,  prosperity  and  adversity ;  the  perpetual 
contradiction  of  each  particular  man's  opinions  and 
sentiments ;  with  many  other  topics  of  that  kind.  It 
is  needless  to  insist  farther  on  this  head.  These  objec- 
tions are  but  weak.  For  as,  in  common  life,  we  rea- 
son every  moment  concerning  fact  and  existence,  and 
cannot  possibly  subsist,  without  continually  employing 
this  species  of  argument,  any  popular  objections,  de- 
rived from  thence,  must  be  insufficient  to  destroy  that 
evidence.  The  great  subverter  of  Pyrrhonism  or  the 
excessive  principles  of  scepticism  is  action,  and  em- 
ployment, and  the  occupations  of  common  life.  These 


v^  1  It  seems  to  me  not  impossible  to  avoid  these  absurdities  and  contradic- 
tions, if  it  be  admitted,  that  there  is  no  such  thing  as  abstract  or  general 
ideas,  properly  speaking;  but  that  all  general  ideas  are,  in  reality,  particular- 
ones,  attached  to  a  general  term,  which  recalls,  upon  occasion,  other  partic- 
ular ones,  that  resemble,  in  certain  circumstances,  the  idea,  present  to  the 
mind.  Thus  when  the  term  Horse  is  pronounced,  we  immediately  figure  to 
ourselves  the  idea  of  a  black  or  a  white  animal,  of  a  particular  size  or  figure: 
But  as  that  term  is  also  usually  applied  to  animals  of  other  colours,  figures 
and  sizes,  these  ideas,  though  not  actually  present  to  the  imagination,  are 
easily  recalled;  and  our  reasoning  and  conclusion  proceed  in  the  same  way, 
as  if  they  were  actually  present.  If  this  be  admitted  (as  seems  reasonable) 
it  follows  that  all  the  ideas  of  quantity,  upon  which  mathematicians  reason, 
are  nothing  but  particular,  and  such  as  are  suggested  by  the  senses  and  im- 
agination, and  consequently,  cannot  be  infinitely  divisible.  It  is  sufi5cient  to 
have  dropped  this  hint  at  present,  without  prosecuting  it  any  farther.  It  cer 
tainly  concerns  all  lovers  of  science  not  to  expose  themselves  to  the  ridicule 
and  contempt  of  the  ignorant  by  their  conclusions ;  and  this  seems  the  readi- 
est solution  of  these  difficulties. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  169 

principles  may  flourish  and  triumph  in  the  schools ; 
where  it  is,  indeed,  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  re- 
fute them.  But  as  soon  as  they  leave  the  shade,  and 
by  the  presence  of  the  real  objects,  which  actuate  our 
passions  and  sentiments,  are  put  in  opposition  to  the 
more  powerful  principles  of  our  nature,  they  vanish] 
like  smoke,  and  leave  the  most  determined  sceptic  inj 
the  same  condition  as  other  mortals. 

The  sceptic,  therefore,  had  better  keep  within  his 
proper  sphere,  and  display  those  philosophical  objec- 
tions, which  arise  from  more  profound  researches. 
Here  he  seems  to  have  ample  matter  of  triumph; 
while  he  justly  insists,  that  all  our  evidence  for  any 
matter  of  fact,  which  lies  beyond  the  testimony  of 
sense  or  memory,  is  derived  entirely  from  the  relation 
of  cause  and  effect ;  that  we  have  no  other  idea  of  this 
relation  than  that  of  two  objects,  which  have  been 
frequently  conjoined  together ;  that  we  have  no  argu- 
ment to  convince  us,  that  objects,  which  have,  in  our 
experience,  been  frequently  conjoined,  will  likewise, 
in  other  instances,  be  conjoined  in  the  same  manner ; 
and  that  nothing  leads  us  to  this  inference  but  custom 
or  a  certain  instinct  of  our  nature ;  which  it  is  indeed 
difficult  to  resist,  but  which,  like  other  instincts,  may  j 
be  fallacious  and  deceitful.  While  the  sceptic  insists 
upon  these  topics,  he  shows  his  force,  or  rather,  in- 
deed, his  own  and  our  weakness ;  and  seems,  for  the 
time  at  least,  to  destroy  all  assurance  and  conviction. 
These  arguments  might  be  displayed  at  greater  length 
if  any  durable  good  or  benefit  to  society  could  ever 
be  expected  to  result  from  them. 

For  here  is  the  chief  and  most  confounding  objec- [ 
tion  to  excessive  scepticism,  that  no  durable  good  can  I 
ever  result  from  it ;  while  it  remains  in  its  full  force  I 


;/ 

rl 


I70  AN  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

and  vigour.     We  need  only  ask  such  a  sceptic,   What 
his  meaning  is?  And  what  he  proposes  by  all  these  curious 
researches  ?     He  is  immediately  at  a  loss,  and  knows 
not  what  to  answer.    A  Copernican  or  Ptolemaic,  who 
supports  each  his  different  system  of  astronomy,  may 
hope  to  produce  a  conviction,  which  will  remain  con- 
stant and  durable,  with  his  audience.     A   Stoic   or 
Epicurean  displays  principles,  which  may  not  be  dur- 
able, but  which  have  an  effect  on  conduct  and  beha- 
Iviour.    But  a  Pyrrhonian  cannot  expect,  that  his  phi- 
losophy will  have  any  constant  influence  on  the  mind  : 
©r  if  it  had,  that  its  influence  would  be  beneficial  to 
I  Society.     On  the  contrary,  he  must  acknowledge,  if  he 
jwill  acknowledge  anything,  that  all  human  life  must 
Iperish,  were  his  principles  universally  and  steadily  to 
jprevail.     All  discourse,  all  action  would  immediately 
Icease ;  and  men  remain  in  a  total  lethargy,  till  the 
•necessities  of  nature,  unsatisfied,  put  an  end  to  their 
miserable  existence.     It  is  true ;  so  fatal  an  event  is 
very  little  to  be  dreaded.    Nature  is  always  too  strong 
for  principle.     And  though  a  Pyrrhonian  may  throw 
II    himself  or  others  into  a  momentary  amazement  and 
\    confusion  by  his  profound  reasonings;  the  first  and 
most  trival  event  in  life  will  put  to  flight  all  his  doubts 
and  scruples,  and  leave  him  the  same,  in  every  point 
of  action  and  speculation,  with  the  philosophers  of 
every  other  sect,  or  with  those  who  never  concerned 
I      themselves  in  any  philosophical  researches.  When  he 
I      awakes  from  his  dream,  he  will  be  the  first  to  join  in 
the  laugh  against  himself,  and  to  confess,  that  all  his 
,     objections  are  mere   amusement,   and   can   have   no 
[    other  tendency  than  to  show  the  whimsical  condition 

I     of  mankind,  who  must  act  and  reason  and  believe  ; 
though  they  are  not  able,  by  their  most  diligent  en- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  171 

quiry,  to  satisfy  themselves  concerning  the  foundation  / 
of  these  operations,  or  to  remove  the  objections,  which* 
may  be  raised  against  them. 


Part  III. 

There  is,  indeed,  a  more  mitigated  scepticism  or 
academical  philosophy,  which  may  be  both  durable 
and  useful,  and  which  may,  in  part,  be  the  result  of 
this  Pyrrhonism,  or  excessive  scepticism,  when  its  un- 
distinguished doubts  are,  in  some  measure,  corrected 
by  common  sense  and  reflection.  The  greater  part  of 
mankind  are  naturally  apt  to  be  affirmative  and  dog- 
matical in  their  opinions ;  and  while  they  see  objects 
only  on  one  side,  and  have  no  idea  of  any  counterpois- 
ing argument,  they  throw  themselves  precipitately 
into  the  principles,  to  which  they  are  inclined ;  nor 
have  they  any  indulgence  for  those  who  entertain  op- 
posite sentiments.  To  hesitate  or  balance  perplexes 
their  understanding,  checks  their  passion,  and  sus- 
pends their  action.  They  are,  therefore,  impatient 
till  they  escape  from  a  state,  which  to  them  is  so  un- 
easy :  and  they  think,  that  they  could  never  remove 
themselves  far  enough  from  it,  by  the  violence  of  their 
affirmations  and  obstinacy  of  their  belief.  But  could 
such  dogmatical  reasoners  become  sensible  of  the 
strange  infirmities  of  human  understanding,  even  in 
its  most  perfect  state,  and  when  most  accurate  and 
cautious  in  its  determinations;  such  a  reflection  would 
naturally  inspire  them  with  more  modesty  and  reserve, 
and  diminish  their  fond  opinion  of  themselves,  and 
their  prejudice  against  antagonists.  The  illiterate 
may  reflect  on  the  disposition  of  the  learned,  who, 
amidst  all  the  advantages  of  study  and  reflection,  are 


\ 


172  A  AT  ENQ  UIR  Y  CONCERNING 

commonly  still  diffident  In  their  determinations :  and 
if  any  of  the  learned  be  inclined,  from  their  natural 
temper,  to  haughtiness  and  obstinacy,  a  small  tincture 
of  Pyrrhonism  might  abate  their  pride,  by  showing 
them,  that  the  few  advantages,  which  they  may  have 
attained  over  their  fellows,  are  but  inconsiderable,  if 
compared  with  the  universal  perplexity  and  confusion, 
which  is  inherent  in  human  nature.  In  general,  there 
is  a  degree  of  doubt,  and  caution,  and  modesty,  which, 
in  all  kinds  of  scrutiny  and  decision,  ought  for  ever 
to  accompany  a  just  reasoner. 

Another  species  of  mitigated  scepticism  which  may 
be  of  advantage  to  mankind,  and  which  may  be  the 
natural  result  of  the  Pyrrhonian  doubts  and  scruples, 
is  the  limitation  of  our  enquiries  to  such  subjects  as 
are  best  adapted  to  the  narrow  capacity  of  human 
understanding.  The  imagination  of  man  is  naturally 
sublime,  delighted  with  whatever  is  remote  and  extra- 
ordinary, and  running,  without  control,  into  the  most 
distant  parts  of  space  and  time  in  order  to  avoid  the 
objects,  which  custom  has  rendered  too  familiar  to  it. 
A  correct  judgement  observes  a  contrary  method,  and 
avoiding  all  distant  and  high  enquiries,  confines  itself 
to  common  life,  and  to  such  subjects  as  fall  under 
daily  practice  and  experience ;  leaving  the  more  sub- 
lime topics  to  the  embellishment  of  poets  and  orators, 
or  to  the  arts  of  priests  and  politicians.  To  bring  us 
to  so  salutary  a  determination,  nothing  can  be  more 
serviceable,  than  to  be  once  thoroughly  convinced  of 
the  force  of  the  Pyrrhonian  doubt,  and  of  the  impos- 
sibility, that  anything,  but  the  strong  power  of  natural 
instinct,  could  free  us  from  it.  Those  who  have  a 
propensity  to  philosophy,  will  still  continue  their  re- 
searches; because  they  reflect,  that,  besides  the  im- 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  173 

mediate  pleasure,  attending  such  an  occupation,  phil- 
osophical decisions  are  nothing  but  the  reflections  of 
common  life,  methodized  and  corrected.  But  they 
will  never  be  tempted  to  go  beyond  common  life,  so 
long  as  they  consider  the  imperfection  of  those  facul- 
ties which  they  employ,  their  narrow  reach,  and  their 
inaccurate  operations.  While  we  cannot  give  a  satis- 
factory reason,  why  we  believe,  after  a  thousand  expe- 
riments, that  a  stone  will  fall,  or  fire  burn;  can  we 
ever  satisfy  ourselves  concerning  any  determination, 
which  we  may  form,  with  regard  to  the  origin  of  worlds, 
and  the  situation  of  nature,  from,  and  to  eternity  ? 

This  narrow  limitation,  indeed,  of  our  enquiries, 
is,  in  every  respect,  so  reasonable^ithat  it  suffices  to 
make  the  slightest  examination  into  the  natural  pow- 
ers of  the  human  mind  and  to  compare  them  with 
their  objects,  in  order  to  recommend  it  to  us.  We 
shall  then  find  what  are  the  proper  subjects  of  science 
and  enquiry. 

It  seems  to  me,  that  the  only  objects  of  the  abstract 
science  or  of  demonstration  are  quantity  and  number, 
and  that  all  attempts  to  extend  this  more  perfect  spe- 
cies of  knowledge  beyond  these  bounds  are  mere  soph- 
istry and  illusion.  As  the  component  parts  of  quantity 
and  number  aire'entirely  similar,  their  relations  become 
intricate  and  involved;  and  nothing  can  be  more  cu- 
rious, as  well  as  useful,  than  to  trace,  by  a  variety  of 
mediums  their  equality  or  inequality,  through  their 
different  appearances.  But  as  all  other  ideas  are 
clearly  distinct  and  different  from  each  other,  we  can 
never  advance  farther,  by  our  utmost  scrutiny,  than 
to"  observe  this  diversity,  and,  by  an  obvious  reflection, 
pronounce  one  thing  not  to  be  another.  Or  if  there 
be  any  difficulty  in  these  decisions,  it  proceeds  entirely 


I 


174  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

from  the  undeterminate  meaning  of  words,  which  is 
corrected  by  juster  definitions.  That  the  square  of  the 
hypothenuse  is  equal  to  the  squares  of  the  other  two  sides, 
cannot  be  known,  let  the  terms  be  ever  so  exactly  de- 
fined, without  a  train  of  reasoning  and  enquiry.  But 
to  convince  us  of  this  proposition,  that  where  there  is 
no  property,  there  can  be  no  injustice,  it  is  only  necessary 
to  define  the  terms,  and  explain  injustice  to  be  a  vio- 
lation of  property.  This  proposition  is,  indeed,  noth- 
ing but  a  more  imperfect  definition.  It  is  the  same 
case  with  all  those  pretended  syllogistical  reasonings, 
^hich  may  be  found  in  every  other  branch  of  learning, 
except  the  sciences  of  quantity  and  number;  and  these 
may  safely,  I  think,  be  pronounced  the  only  proper 
objects  of  knowledge  and  demonstration. 

All  other  enquiries  of  men  regard  only  matter  of 
fact  and  existence ;  and  these  are  evidently  incapable 
of  demonstration.  Whatever  is  may  not  be.  No  nega- 
tion of  a  fact  can  involve  a  contradiction.  The  non- 
existence of  any  being,  without  exception,  is  as  clear 
and  distinct  an  idea  as  its  existence.  The  proposition, 
which  affirms  it  not  to  be,  however  false,  is  no  less 
conceivable  and  intelligible,  than  that  which  affirms  it 
to  be.  The  case  is  different  with  the  sciences,  properly 
so  called.  Every  proposition,  which  is  not  true,  is 
there  confused  and  unintelligible.  That  the  cube  root 
of  64  is  equal  to  the  half  of  10,  is  a  false  proposition, 
and  can  never  be  distinctly  conceived.  But  that  Cae- 
sar, or  the  angel  Gabriel,  or  any  being  never  existed, 
may  be  a  false  proposition,  but  still  is  perfectly  con- 
ceivable, and  implies  no  contradiction. 

The  existence,  therefore,  of  any  being  can  only  be 
proved  by  arguments  from  its  cause  or  its  effect ;  and 
these  arguments  are  founded  entirely  on  experience. 


HUMAN  UNDERSTANDING.  175 

If  we  reason  a  priori,  anything  may  appear  able  to 
produce  anything.  The  falling  of  a  pebble  may,  for 
aught  we  know,  extinguish  the  sun;  or  the  wish  of  a 
man  control  the  planets  in  their  orbits.  It  is  only  ex-\ 
perience,  which  teaches  us  the  nature  and  bounds  of 
cause  and  effect,  and  enables  us  to  infer  the  existence 
of  one  object  from  that  of  another.^  Such  is  the  foun- 
dation of  moral  reasoning,  which  forms  the  greater 
part  of  human  knowledge,  and  is  the  source  of  all 
human  action  and  behaviour. 

Moral  reasonings  are  either  concerning  particular  or 
general  facts.  All  deliberations  in  life  regard  the  for- 
mer ;  as  also  all  disquisitions  in  history,  chronology, 
geography,  and  astronomy. 

The  sciences,  which  treat  of  general  facts,  are  pol- 
itics, natural  philosophy,  physic,  chemistry,  &c.  where 
the  qualities,  causes  and  effects  of  a  whole  species  of 
objects  are  enquired  into. 

Divinity  or  Theology,  as  It  proves  the  existence  of 
a  i^eity,  and  the  immortality  of  souls,  is  composed 
partly  of  reasonings  concerning  particular,  partly  con- 
cerning general  factSo  It  has  a  foundation  in  reason, 
so  far  as  it  is  supported  by  experience.  But  its  best 
and  most  solid  foundation  is  faith  and  divine  reve 
lation. 

Morals  and  criticism  are  not  so  properly  objects  of 
the  understanding  as  of  taste  and  sentiment.  Beauty, 
whether  moral  or  natural,  is  felt,  more  properly  than 
perceived.  Or  if  we  reason  concerning  it,  and  endeav- 
our to  fix  its  standard,  we  regard  a  new  fact,  to  wit, 

i  That  impious  maxim  of  tha  ancient  philosophy,  Ex  niktlo,  nihil  fit,  by 
which  the  creation  of  matter  was  excluded,  ceases  to  be  a  maxim;  according 
to  this  philosophy.  Not  only  the  wiH  of  the  supreme  Being  may  create  mat- 
ter; but,  for  aught  we  know  a  priori,  the  will  of  any  other  being  might  create 
it,  or  any  other  cause,  that  the  most  whimsical  imagination  can  assign. 


176  AN  ENQUIRY  CONCERNING 

the  general  tastes  of  mankind,  or  some  such  fact, 
which  may  be  the  object  of  reasoning  and  enquiry. 

When  we  run  over  libraries,  persuaded  of  these 
principles,  what  havoc  must  we  make  ?  If  we  take  in 
our  hand  any  volume;  of  divinity  or  school  metaphys- 
ics, for  instance;  let  us  ^iSY^Does  it  contain  any  abstract 
reasoning  concerning  quantity  or  number  ?  No.  Does  it 
\  ''contain  any  experimental  reasoning  concerning  matter  of 
fact  and  existence  ?  No.  Commit  it  then  to  the  flames;^ 
for  it  can  contain  nothing  but  sophistry  and  illusion. 


SELECTIONS  FROM 
A  TREA  TISE  OF  HUMAN  NA  TUBE 

BOOK  I, 
BY  DAVID  HUME 


A 

TREATISE 

O  F 

Human  Nature: 

BEING 

An  Attempt  to  introduce  the  ex- 
perimental Method  of  Reafoning 

I  NTO 

MORAL  SUBJECTS. 


Rara  temporumfelicitas^  ubi /entire^  qucB  velis;  &  qucB 
fen  ias^  dicere  licet.  Tacit, 


Book   L 


OF  THE 
UNDERSTANDING. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  John  Noon,  at  the    White-Hart,  near 

Mercer's- Chapel  \w  Cheapfide. 


MDCCXXXIX. 


The   Contents  of 
A   Treatise   of  Human   Nature 


BOOK  I. 

Or  THE   UXDERSTANDINO. 
PART    I. 

Of  ideas;  their  origin^  composition^  abstraction  connexion^  ^c. 

SECT,  PAGE 

I.  Of  the  origin  of  our  ideas 
II.  Division  of  the  subject    .... 
III.  Of  the  ideas  of  the  memory  and  imagination 


IV.  Of  the  connexion  or  association  of  ideas 
V.  Of  relations  ..... 
VI.  Of  modes  and  substances 
VII.  Of  abstract  ideas    .         .         .         .         , 


227 


PART  II. 

Of  the  ideas  of  space  and  time. 
I.  Of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  our   ideas  of  space 
and  time     ........ 

II.  Of  the  infinite  divisibility  of  space  and  time    . 

III.  Of  the  other  qualities  of  our  ideas  of  space  and  time 

IV.  Objections  answer'd       ...... 

V.  The  same  subject  continu'd 

VI.  Of  the  idea  of  existence  and  of  external  existence    .     229 

PART  III. 
Of  knowledge  and  probability, 

I.  Of  knowledge 185 

II.  Of  probability;  and  of  the  idea  of  cause  and  effect  .     190 
III.  Why  a  cause  is  always  necessary?  ....     197 

*  Only  the  sections  thus  indicated  are  here  reproduced. 


l82 


CONTENTS. 


SECT. 

IV.  Of  the  component  parts  of  our  reasonings  concerning 
causes  and  effects        ..... 
V.  Of  the  impressions  of  the  senses  and  memory  . 
VI.  Of  the  inference  from  the  impression  to  the  idea 
VII.  Of  the  nature  of  the  idea,  or  belief 
VIII.  Of  the  causes  of  behef   ..... 
IX.  Of  the  effects  of  other  relations,  and  other  habits 
X.  Of  the  influence  of  belief        .... 
XI.  Of  the  probability  of  chances  .         .         • 

XII.  Of  the  probability  of  causes    .... 
XIII.  Of  unphilosophical  probability 
*XIV.  Of  the  idea  of  necessary  connexion 

XV.  Rules  by  which  to  judge  of  causes  and  effects 
XVI.  Of  the  reason  of  animals        .... 


202 


PART  IV. 

Of  the  sceptical  and  other  systems  of  philosophy 
I.  Of  scepticism  with  regard  to  reason 
II.  Of  scepticism  with  regard  to  the  senses 

III.  Of  the  antient  philosophy 

IV.  Of  the  modern  philosophy 
V.  Of  the  immateriality  of  the  soul 

VI.  Of  personal  identity 
VII.  Conclusion  of  this  book 

Appendix       .... 


232 

245 
260 


*  Only  the  sections  thus  indicated  are  here  reproduced. 


THE  DOCTRINE   OF  CAUSALITY 

SELECTIONS  FROM 
BOOK  /.,  PART  III. 


BOOK  I. 

PART  III. 

OF  KNOWLEDGE  AND  PROBABILITY. 

Section   I. 

Of  knowledge. 

There  are^  seven  different  kinds  of  philosophical 
relation,  vis.  resemblance,  identity,  relations  of  time 
and  place,  proportion  in  quantity  or  number,  degrees 
in  any  quality,  contrariety,  and  causation.  These  re- 
lations may  be  divided  into  two  classes;  into  such  as] 
depend  entirely  on  the  ideas,  which  we  compare  to- 
gether, and  such  as  may  be  changed  without  any 
change  in  the  ideas.  'Tis  from  the  idea  of  a  triangle,^ 
that  we  discover  the  relation  of  equality,  which  its 
three  angles  bear  to  two  right  ones ;  and  this  relation 
is  invariable,  as  long  as  our  idea  remains  the  same. 
On  the^ntrary;,  the  relations  of  contiguity  and  dis- 
iance  betwixt  two  objects  may  be  chang'd  merely  by 
an  alteration  of  their  place,  without  any  change  on  the 
objects"^  themselves  or  on  their  ideas;  and  the  place 
depends  on  a  hundred  different  accidents,  which  can- 
not be  foreseen  by  the  mind.  'Tis  the  same  case  with 
identity  and  causation.  Two  objects,  tho'  perfectly  re- 
sembling each  other,  and  even  appearing  in  the  same 
place  at  different  times,  may  be  numerically  different: 
And  as  the  power,  by  which  one  object  produces  an 
other,  is  never  discoverable  merely  from  their  id 

1  Part  I.,  Sect  V. 


-f- 


i86         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

I 'tis  evident  cause  and  effect  are  relations,  of  which  we 
receive  information  from  experience,  and  not  from  any 
abstract  reasoning  or  reflexion.  There  is  no  single 
phaenomenon,  even  the  most  simple,  which  can  be 
accounted  for  from  the  qualities  of  the  objects,  as  they 
appear  to  us;  or  which  we  cou'd  foresee  without  the 
help  of  our  memory  and  experience. 

It  appears,  therefore,  that  of  these  seven  philo- 
sophical relations,  there  remain  only  four,  which  de- 
pending solely  upon  ideas,  can  be  the  objects  of  knowl- 
edge and  certainty.  These  four  are  resemblance,  con- 
trariety, degrees  in  quality,  and  proportions  in  quan- 
tity or  number.  Three  of  these  relations  are  discover- 
able at  first  sight,  and  fall  more  properly  under  the 
province  of  intuition  than  demonstration.  When  any 
objects  resemble  each  other,  the  resemblance  will  at 
first  strike  the  eye,  or  rather  the  mind;  and  seldom 
requires  a  second  examination.  The  case  is  the  same 
with  contrariety,  and  with  the  degrees  of  any  quality. 
No  one  can  once  doubt  but  existence  and  non-existence 
destroy  each  other,  and  are  perfectly  incompatible  and 
contrary.  And  tho'  it  be  impossible  to  judge  exactly 
of  the  degrees  of  any  quality,  such  as  colour,  taste, 
heat,  cold,  when  the  difference  betwixt  them  is  very 
small ;  yet  'tis  easy  to  decide,  that  any  of  them  is  supe- 
rior or  inferior  to  another,  when  their  difference  is 
considerable.  And  this  decision  we  always  pronounce 
at  first  sight,  without  any  enquiry  or  reasoning. 

We  might  proceed,  after  the  same  manner,  in  fixing 
the  proportions  of  quantity  or  number,  and  might  at 
one  view  observe  a  superiority  or  inferiority  betwixt 
any  numbers,  or  figures;  especially  where  the  differ- 
ence is  very  great-and  remarkable.  As  to  equality  or 
any  exact  proportion,  we  can  only  guess  at  it  from  a 


SECT.  I    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING        187 

single  consideration ;  except  in  very  short  numbers,  or 
very  limited  portions  of  extension;  which  are  com- 
prehended in  an  instant,  and  where  we  perceive  an 
impossibility  of  falling  into  any  considerable  error. 
In  all  other  cases  we  must  settle  the  proportions  with 
some  liberty,  or  proceed  in  a  more  artificial  manner. 

I  have  already  observed,  that  geometry,  or  the  art, 
by  which  we  fix  the  proportions  of  figures;  tho'  it 
much  excels,  both  in  universality  and  exactness,  the 
loose  judgments  of  the  senses  and  imagination;  yet 
never  attains  a  perfect  precision  and  exactness.  Its 
first  principles  are  still  drawn  from  the  general  appear- 
ance of  the  objects ;  and  that  appearance  can  never  af- 
ford us  any  security,  when  we  examine  the  prodigious 
minuteness  of  which  nature  is  susceptible.  Our  ideas 
seem  to  give  a  perfect  assurance,  that  no  two  right 
lines  can  have  a  common  segment;  but  if  we  consider 
these  ideas,  v/e  shall  find,  that  they  always  suppose  a 
sensible  inclination  of  the  two  lines,  and  that  where 
the  angle  they  form  is  extremely  small,  we  have  no 
standard  of  a  right  line  so  precise,  as  to  assure  us  of 
the  truth  of  this  proposition.  Tis  the  same  case  with 
most  of  the  primary  decisions  of  the  mathematics. 

There  remain,  therefore,  algebra  and  arithemetic 
as  the  only  sciences,  in  which  we  can  carry  on  a  chain 
of  reasoning  to  any  degree  of  intricacy,  and  yet  pre- 
serve a  perfect  exactness  and  certainty.  We  are  pos- 
sest  of  a  precise  standard,  by  which  we  can  judge  of 
the  equality  and  proportion  of  numbers ;  and  according 
as  they  correspond  or  not  to  that  standard,  we  deter- 
mine their  relations,  without  any  possibility  of  error. 
When  two  numbers  are  so  combined,  as  that  the  one 
has  always  an  unite  answering  to  every  unite  of  the 
other,  we  pronounce  them  equal ;  and  'tis  for  want  of 


l88         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

such  a  standard  of  equality  in  extension,  that  geometry 
can  scarce  be  esteem'd  a  perfect  and  infallible  science. 

But  here  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  obviate  a  difficulty, 
which  may  arise  from  my  asserting,  that  tho'  geometry 
falls  short  of  that  perfect  precision  and  certainty, 
which  are  peculiar  to  arithmetic  and  algebra,  yet  it 
excels  the  imperfect  judgments  of  our  senses  and 
imagination.  The  reason  why  I  impute  any  defect 
to  geometry,  is,  because  its  original  and  fundamental 
principles  are  deriv'd  merely  from  appearances ;  and  it 
may  perhaps  be  imagin'd,  that  this  defect  must  always 
attend  it,  and  keep  it  from  ever  reaching  a  greater 
exactness  in  the  comparison  of  objects  or  ideas,  than 
what  our  eye  or  imagination  alone  is  able  to  attain. 
I  own  that  this  defect  so  far  attends  it,  as  to  keep  it 
from  ever  aspiring  to  a  full  certainty :  But  since  these 
fundamental  principles  depend  on  the  easiest  and  least 
deceitful  appearances,  they  bestow  on  their  conse- 
quences a  degree  of  exactness,  of  which  these  conse- 
quences are  singly  incapable.  'Tis  impossible  for  the 
eye  to  determine  the  angles  of  a  chiliagon  to  be  equal 
to  1996  right  angles,  or  to  make  any  conjecture,  that 
approaches  this  proportion;  but  when  it  determines, 
that  right  lines  cannot  concur;  that  we  cannot  draw 
more  than  one  right  line  between  two  given  points; 
its  mistakes  can  never  be  of  any  consequence.  And 
this  is  the  nature  and  use  of  geometry,  to  run  us  up  to 
such  appearances,  as,  by  reason  of  their  simplicity, 
cannot  lead  us  into  any  considerable  error. 

I  shall  here  take  occasion  to  propose  a  second 
observation  concerning  our  demonstrative  reasonings, 
which  is  suggested  by  the  same  subject  of  the  mathe- 
matics. 'Tis  usual  with  mathematicians,  to  pretend, 
that  those  ideas,  which  are  their  objects,  are  of  so 


SECT.  I    BOOK  L  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING       189 

refin'd  and  spiritual  a  nature,  that  they  fall  not  under 
the  conception  of  the  fancy,  but  must  be  comprehended 
by  a  pure  and  intellectual  view,  of  which  the  superior 
faculties  of  the  soul  are  alone  capable.  The  same 
notion  runs  thro'  most  parts  of  philosophy,  and  is  prin- 
cipally made  use  of  to  explain  our  abstract  ideas,  and 
to  shew  how  we  can  form  an  idea  of  a  triangle,  for 
instance,  which  shall  neither  be  an  isosceles  nor  scale- 
num,  nor  be  confin'd  to  any  particular  length  and 
proportion  of  sides.  Tis  easy  to  see,  why  philosophers 
are  so  fond  of  this  notion  of  some  spiritual  and  refin'd 
perceptions ;  since  by  that  means  they  cover  many  of 
their  absurdities,  and  may  refuse  to  submit  to  the  de- 
cisions of  clear  ideas,  by  appealing  to  such  as  are 
obscure  and  uncertain.  But  to  destroy  this  artifice,  we 
need  but  reflect  on  that  principle  so  oft  insisted  on, 
that  all  our  ideas  are  copy'd  from  our  impressions. 
For  from  thence  we  may  immediately  conclude,  that 
since  all  impressions  are  clear  and  precise,  the  ideas, 
which  are  copied  from  them,  must  be  of  the  same 
nature,  and  can  never,  but  from  our  fault,  contain  any 
thing  so  dark  and  intricate.  An  idea  is  by  its  very 
nature  weaker  and  fainter  than  an  impression ;  but 
being  in  every  other  respect  the  same,  cannot  imply 
any  very  great  mystery.  If  its  weakness  render  it 
obscure, ' 'tis  our  business  to  remedy  that  defect,  as 
much  as  possible,  by  keeping  the  idea  steady  and  pre- 
cise; and  till  we  have  done  so,  'tis  in  vain  to  pretend 
to  reasoning  and  philosophy. 


Section    II. 
Of  probability;  and  of  the  idea  of  cause  and  effect. 

This  is  all  I  think  necessary  to  observe  concerning 
those  four  relations,  which  are  the  foundation  of 
science;  but  as  to  the  other  three,  which  depend  not 
upon  the  idea,  and  may  be  absent  or  present  even  while 
that  remains  the  same,  'twill  be  proper  to  explain 
them  more  particularly.  These  three  relations  are 
identity,  the  situations  in  time  and  place,  and  causa- 
tion. 

All  kinds  of  reasoning  consist  in  nothing  but  a 
comparison,  and  a  discovery  of  those  relations,  either 
constant  or  inconstant,  which  two  or  more  objects 
bear  to  each  other.  This  comparison  we  may  make, 
either  when  both  the  objects  are  present  to  the  senses, 
or  when  neither  of  them  is  present,  or  when  only  one. 
When  both  the  objects  are  present  to  the  senses  along 
with  the  relation,  we  call  this  perception  rather  than 
reasoning;  nor  is  there  in  this  case  any  exercise  of  the 
thought,  or  any  action,  properly  speaking,  but  a  mere 
passive  admission  of  the  impressions  thro'  the  organs 
of  sensation.  According  to  this  way  of  thinking,  we 
^}^h^  B9^^9  r^^^iv^  ^s  reasoning  any  of  the  observa- 
tions we  may  make  concerning  identity,  and  the  rela- 
tions of  time  and  place;  since  in  none  of  them  the  mind 
can  go  beyond  what  is  immediately  present  to  the 
senses,  either  to  discover  the  real  existence  or  the 
relations  of  objects.  'Tis  only  causation,  which  pro- 
duces such  a  conn^ion,  as  to  give  us  assurance  from 


SECT.  II    BOOK  L  OF  THE   UNDERSTANDING    191 

the  existence  or  action  of  one  object,  that  'twas  fol- 
low'd  or  preceded  by  any  other  existence  or  action; 
nor  can  the  other  two  relations  be  ever  made  use  of 
in  reasoning,  except  so  far  as  they  either  affect  or  are 
affected  by  it.  There  is  nothing  in  any  objects  to  per- 
swade  us,  that  they  are  either  always  remote  or  always 
contiguous;  and  when  from  experience  and  observa- 
tion we  discover,  that  their  rela^tt^in  this  particular 
is  invariable,  we  always  conclu^^^M'e  is  some  secret 
cause,  which  separates  or  unites^^K  The  same  rea- 
soning extends  to  identity.  We^Hdily  suppose  an 
object  may  continue  individually  tl^fcne,  tho'  several 
times  absent  from  and  present  t^Ke  senses;  and 
ascribe  to  it  an  identity,  notwithsSnaing  the  inter- 
ruption of  the  perception,  whenever  we  conclude,  that 
if  we  had  kept  our  eye  or  hand  constantly  upon  it,  it 
wou'd  have  convey'd  an  invariable  and  uninterrupted 
perception.  But  this  conclusion  beyond  the  impres 
sions  of  our  senses  can  be  founded  only  on  the  con- 
nexion of  cause  and  eifect;  nor  can  we  otherwise  have 
any  security,  that  the  object  is  not  chang'd  upon  us, 
however  much  the  new  object  may  resemble  that  which 
was  formerly  present  to  the  senses.  Whenever  we 
discover  such  a  perfect  resemblance,  we  consider, 
whether  it  be  common  in  that  species  of  objects; 
whether  possibly  or  probably  any  cause  cou'd  operate 
in  producing  the  change  and  resemblance ;  and  accord- 
ing as  we  determine  concerning  these  causes  and 
effects,  we  form  our  judgment  concerning  the  identity 
of  the  object. 

Here  then  it  appears,  that  of  those  three  relations, 
which  depend  n^Tupon  the  mere  ideas,  the  only  one, 
that  can  be  trac'd  beyond  our  senses,  and  informs  us 
of  existences  and  objects,  which  we  do  not  see  or„feel, 


/ 


192         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    FART  III 

is^  causation.  This  relation,  therefore,  we  shall  en- 
deavour to  explain  fully  before  we  leave  the  subject  of 
the  understanding. 

To  begin  regularly,  we  must  consider  the  idea  of 
causation,  and  see  from  what  origin  it  is  deriv'd.  'Tis 
impossible  to  reason  justly,  without  understanding  per- 
fectly the  idea  concerning  which  we  reason;  and  'tis 
impossible  perfec^^p  understand  any  idea,  without 
tracing  it  up  to  i^^Hfin,  and  examining  that  primary 
impression,  from^^Kn  it  arises.  The  examination  of 
the  impression  t^Bws  a  clearness  on  the  idea;  and 
the  examinatioi^^Pthe  idea  bestows  a  like  clearness 
on  all  our  reas^Kg. 

Let  us  thereiSe  cast  our  eye  on  any  two  objects, 
which  we  call  cause  and  effect,  and  turn  them  on  all 
sides,  in  order  to  find  that  impression,  which  produces 
an  idea  of  such  prodigious  consequence.  At  first  sight 
1  perceive,  that  I  must  not  search  for  it  in  any  o^  the 
particular  qiialities  of  the  objects;  since,  which-ever  of 
these  qualities  I  pitch  on,  I  find  some  object,  that  is  not 
possest  of  it,  and  yet  falls  under  the  denomination  of 
cause  or  effect.  And  indeed  there  is  nothing  existent, 
either  externally  or  internally,  which  is  not  to  be  con- 
sider'd  either  as  a  cause  or  an  effect;  tho'  'tis  plain 
there  is  no  one  quality,  which  universally  belongs  to 
all  beings,  and  gives  them  a  title  to  that  denomination. 

The  idea,  then,  of  causation  must  be  deriv'd  from 
some  relation  among  objects;  and  that  relation  we 
must  now  endeavour  to  discover.  I  find  in  the  first 
place,  that  whatever  objects  are  consider 'd  as  causes 
or  effects,  are  contiguous ;  and  that  nothing  can  oper- 
ate in  a  time  or  place,  which  is  ever  so  little  remov'd 
from  those  of  its  existence.  Tho'  distant  objects  may 
sometimes  seem  productive  of  each  other,  they  are 


SECT.  II    BOOK  I.  OF   THE   UNDERSTANDING    193 

commonly  found  upon  examination  to  be  link'd  by  a 
chain  of  causes,  which  are  contiguous  among  them- 
selves, and  to  the  distant  objects;  and  when  in  any 
particular  instance  we  cannot  discover  this  connexion, 
we  still  presume  it  to  exist.  We  may  therefore  con- 
sider the  relation  of  contiguity  as  essential  to  that  ^ 
of  causation;  at  least  may  suppose  it  such,  according  A 
to  the  general  opinion,  till  we  can  find  a  more^  proper 
occasion  to  clear  up  this  mattgjjjl^  examining  what 
objects  are  or  are  not  susceptib^Hp juxtaposition  and 
conjunction.  ,-;v 

The  second  relation  I  shall  observe  as  essential  to 
causes  and  effects,  is  not  so  universally  acknowledg'd,  ^^ 
but  is  liable  to  some  controversy.  Tis  that  of  priority  [  ^ 
of  time  in  the  cause  before  the  effect.  Some. pretend 
that  'tis  not  absolutely  necessary  a  cause  shou'd  pre- 
cede its  effect;  but  that  any  object  or  action,  in  the^*  ^. 
very  first  moment  of  its  existence,  may  exert  its  pro-  /  ^ 
ductive  quality,  and  give  rise  to  another  object  or 
action,  perfectly  co-temporary  with  itself.  But  beside 
that  experience  in  most  instances  seems  to  contradict 
this  opinion,  we  may  establish  the  relation  of  priority 
by  a  kind  of  inference  or  reasoning.  'Tis  an  estab- 
lish'djrnaxim  both  in  natural  and  moral  philosophy, 
that  an  object,  which  exists  for  any  time  in  its  full 
perfection  without  producing  another,  is  not  its  sole 
cause;  but  is  assisted  by  some  other  principle,  which 
pushes  it  from  its  state  of  inactivity,  and  makes  it 
exert  that  energy,  of  which  it  was  secretly  possest. 
Now  if  any*°cause  may  be  perfectly  co-temporary  with 
its  effect,  'tis  certain,  according  to  this  maxim,  that 
they  must  all  of  them  be  so;  since  any  one  of  them, 
which  retards  its  operation  for  a  single  moment,  exerts 

1  Part  IV.,  Sect.  V. 


,€^ 


194         ^  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

not  itself  at  that  very  Individual  time,  in  which  it 
might  have  operated ;  and  therefore  is  no  proper  cause. 
The  consequence  of  this  wou'd  be  no  less  than  the 
destruction  of  that  succession  of  causes,  which  we 
observe  in  the  world;  and  indeed,  the  utter  annihila- 
tion of  time.  For  if  one  cause  were  co-temporary 
with  its  effect,  and  this  effect  with  its  effect,  and  so 
^  on,  'tis  plain  there  wou'd  be  no  such  thing  as  succes- 
sion, and  all  objecjs  must  be  co-existent. 

If  this  argumem:-  appear  satisfactory,  'tis  well.  If 
not,  I  beg  the  reader  to  allow  me  the  same  liberty, 
which  I  have  us'd  in  the  preceding  case,  of  supposing 
it  such.  For  he  shall  find,  that  the  affair  is  of  no  great 
importance. 

Having  thus  discover'd  or  suppos'd  the  two  rela- 
tions of  contiguity  and  succession  to  be  essential  to 
causes  and  effects,  I  find  I  am  stopt  short,  and  can 
proceed  no  farther  in  considering  any  single  instance 
of  cause  and  effect,  potion  in  one  body  is  regarded 
upon  impulse  as  the  cause  of  motion  in  another. 
When  we  consider  these  objects  with  the  utmost  atten- 
tion, we  find  only  that  the  one  body  approaches  the 
other;  and  that  the  motion  of  it  precedes  that  of  the 
other,  but  without  any  sensible  interval.  'Tis  in  vain 
to  rack  ourselves  with  farther  thought  and  reflexion 
upon  this  subject.  We  can  go  no  farther  in  consider- 
ing this  particular  instance. 

Shou'd  any  one  leave  this  instance,  and  pretend  to 
define  a  cause,  by  saying  it  is  something  productive  of 
another,  'tis  evident  he  wou'd  say  nothing.  For  what 
does  he  mean  by  production  f  Can  he  give  any  defini- 
tion of  it,  that  will  not  be  the  same  with  tha*  of 
causation?    If  he  can ;  I  desire  it  may  be  produc'd.    If 


SECT,  IJ    BOOK  I.   OF   THE    UNDERSTANDING    195 

he  cannot ;  he  here  runs  in  a  circle,  and  gives  a  synon- 
imous  term  instead  of  a  definition. 

Shall  we  then  rest  contented  with  these  two  rela- 
tions of  contiguity  and  succession,  as  affording  a  com- 
pleat  idea  of  causation?     By  no  means,     ^nobject      y 
mayLJae^contiguous  and  prior  to  another,  without  being 
considered  as  its^cause.     There  is  a  necessary  con-    / 
NEXiON  to  be  taken  into  consideration;  anJthat  rela-    j 
tion  is  of  much  greater  importance,  than  any  of  the 
other  two  above-mention'd. 

Here  again  I  turn  the  object  on  all  sides,  in  order 
to  discover  the  nature  of  this  necessary  connexion,  and 
find  the  impression,  or  impressions,  from  which  its 
idea  may  be  deriv'd.  When  I  cast  my  eye  on  the 
known  qualities  of  objects,  I  immediately  discover  that 
the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  depends  not  in  the 
least  on  them.  When  I  consider  their  relations,  I  can 
find  none  but  those  of  contiguity  and  succession ;  which 
I  have  already  regarded  as  imperfect  and  unsatisfac- 
tory. Shall  the  despair  of  success  make  me  assert, 
that  I  am  here  possest  of  an  idea,  which  is  not  pre- 
ceded by  any  similar  impression?  This  wou'd  be  too 
strong  a  proof  of  levity  and  inconstancy ;  since  the  con- 
trary principle  has  been  already  so  firmly  established, 
as  to  admit  of  no  farther  doubt;  at  least,  till  we  have 
more  fully  examin'd  the  present  difficulty. 

We  must,  therefore,  proceed  like  those,  who  being 
in  search  of  any  thing  that  lies  conceal'd  from  them, 
and  not  finding  it  in  the  place  they  expected,  beat  about 
all  the  neighbouring  fields,  without  any  certain  view  or 
design,  in  hopes  their  good  fortune  will  at  last  guide 
them  to  what  they  search  for.  'Tis  necessary  for  us 
to  leave  the  direct  survey  of  this  question  concerning 
the  nature  of  that  necessary  connexion,  which  enters 


196        A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

into  our  idea  of  cause  and  effect ;  and  endeavour  to  find 
some  other  questions,  the  examination  of  which  will 
perhaps  afford  a  hint,  that  may  serve  to  clear  up  the 
present  difficulty.  Of  these  questions  there  occur  two, 
which  I  shall  proceed  to  examine,  vis. 

First,  For  what  reason  we  pronounce  it  necessary, 
JK^  that  every  thing  wKose  existence  has  a  beginning, 
shou'd  also  have  a  cause? 

Secondly,  Why  we  conclude,  that  such  particular 
causes  must  necessarily  have  such  particular  effects; 
and  what  is  the  nature  of  that  inference  we  draw  from 
the  one  to  the  other,  and  of  thehelief^we  repose  in  it? 

I  shall  only  observe  before  I  proceed  any  farther, 
that  tho'  the  ideas  of  cause  and  effect  be  deriv'd  from 
the  impressions  of  reflexion  as  well  as  from  those  of 
sensation,  yet  for  brevity's  sake,  I  commonly  mention 
only  the  latter  as  the  origin  of  these  ideas ;  tho'  I  de- 
sire that  whatever  I  say  of  them  may  also  extend  to 
the  former.  Passions  are  connected  with  their  objects 
and  with  one  another;  no  less  than  external  bodies  are 
connected  together.  The  same  relation,  then,  of  cause 
and  effect,  which  belongs  to  one,  must  be  common  to 
all  of  them. 


V- 


Section   III. 
Why  a  cause  is  always  necessary. 

To  begin  with  the  first  question  concerning  the 
necessity  of  a  cause:  'Tis  a  general  maxim  in  philos-  ** 
ophy,  that  whatever  begmsjo  exist,  must  have  a  cause 
of  existence.  This  is  commonly  taken  for  granted  in 
alFreasonings,  without  any  proof  given  or  demanded. 
'Tis  suppos'd  to  be  founded  on  intuition,  and  to  be 
one  of  those  maxims,  which  tho'  they  may  be  deny'd 
with  the  lips,  'tis  impossible  for  men  in  their  hearts 
really  to  doubt  of.  But  if  we  examine  this  maxim  by. 
the  idea  of  knowledge  above-explain'd,  we  shall  dis- 
cover in  it  no  mark  of .  any  such  intuitive  certainty ; 
but  on  the  contrary  shall  find,  that^tis~o?  a  nature 
quite  foreign  to  that  species  of  conviction. 

All  certainty  arises  from  the  comparison  of  ideas, 
and  from  the  discovery  of  such  relations  as  are  unal- 
terable, so  long  as  the  ideas  continue  the  same.  These 
relations  are  resemblance, ^proportions  in  quantity  and  t^^^^^ 
number,  degrees  of  any  quality,  and  contrariety ;  none  ^V^^*^^: 
of  which  are  imply'd  in  this  proposition,  Whatever  has 
a  beginning  has  also  a  cause  of  existence.  That  prop- 
osition therefore  is  not  intuitively  certain.  At  least 
any  one,  who  wou'd  assert  it  to  be  intuitively  certain, 
must  deny  these  to  be  the  only  infallible  relations,  and 
must  find  some  other  relation  of  that  kind  to  be  im- 
ply'd  in  it;  which  it  will  then  be  time  enough  to 
examine. 


y 


198         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

But  here  is  an  argument,  which  proves  at  once, 
that  the  foregoing  proposition  is  neither  intuitively 
nor  demonstrably  certain.  We  can  never  demonstrate 
the  necessity  of  a  cause  to  every  new  existence,  or  new 
modification  of  existence,  without  shewing  at  the  same 
time  the  impossibility  there  is,  that  any  thing  can  ever 
begin  to  exist  without  some  productive  principle;  and 
where  the  latter  proposition  cannot  be  prov'd,  we  must 
despair  of  ever  being  able  to  prove  the  former.  Now 
that  the  latter  proposition  is  utterly  incapable  of  a 
demonstrative  proof,  we  may  satisfy  ourselves  by  con- 
sidering, that  as  all  distinct  ideas  are  separable  from 
each  other,  and  as  the  ideas  of  cause  and  effect  are 
evidently  distinct,  'twill  be  easy  for  us  to  conceive  any 
object  to  be  non-existent  this  moment,  and  existent 
the  next,  without  conjoining  to  it  the  distinct  idea  of 
a  cause  or  productive  principle.  The  separation,  there- 
fore, of  the  idea  of  a  cause  from  that  of  a  beginning 
of  existence,  is  plainly  possible  for  the  imagination; 
and  consequently  the  actual  separation  of  these  objects 
is  so  far  possible,  that  it  implies  no  contradiction  nor 
absurdity;  and  is  therefore  incapable  of  being  refuted 
by  any  reasoning  from  mere  ideas;  without  which  'tis 
impossible  to  demonstrate  the  necessity  of  a  cause. 

Accordingly  we  shall  find  upon  examination,  that 
every  demonstration,  which  has  been  produc'd  for  the 
necessity  of  a  cause,  is  fallacious  and  sophistical. 
All  the  points  of  time  and  place,^  say  some  philoso- 
phers, in  which  we  can  suppose  any  object  to  begin  to 
exist,  are  in  themselves  equal;  and  unless  there  be 
some  cause,  which  is  peculiar  to  one  time  and  to  one 
place,  and  which  by  that  means  determines  and  fixes 
the  existence,  it  must  remain  in  eternal  suspence;  and 

1  Mr.  Hobbea. 


SECT.  Ill    BOOK  I.  OF  THE   UNDERSTANDING    199 

the  object  can  never  begin  to  be,  for  want  of  some- 
thing to  fix  its  beginning.  But  I  ask ;  Is  there  any  more 
difficulty  in  supposing  the  time  and  place  to  be  fix'd 
without  a  cause,  than  to  suppose  the  existence  to  be 
determin'd  in  that  manner?  The  first  question  that 
occurs  on  this  subject  is  always,  whether  the  object 
shall  exist  or  not:  The  next,  when  and  where  it  shall 
begin  to  exist.  If  the  removal  of  a  cause  be  intuitively 
absurd  in  the  one  case,  it  must  be  so  in  the  other: 
And  if  that  absurdity  be  not  clear  without  a  proof  in 
the  one  case,  it  will  equally  require  one  in  the  other. 
The  absurdity,  then,  of  the  one  supposition  can  never 
be  a  proof  of  that  of  the  other;  since  they  are  both 
upon  the  same  footing,  and  must  stand  or  fall  by  the 
same  reasoning. 

The  second  argument,^  which  I  find  us'd  on  this 
head,  labours  under  an  equal  difficulty.  Every  thing, 
'tis  said,  must  have  a  cause ;  for  if  any  thing  wanted  a 
cause,  if  would  produce  itself;  that  is,  exist  before  it 
existed;  which  is  impossible.  But  this  reasoning  is 
plainly  unconclusive ;  because  it  supposes,  that  in  our 
denial  of  a  cause  we  still  grant  what  we  expressly 
deny,  vis.  that  there  must  be  a  cause ;  which  therefore 
is  taken  to  be  the  object  itself;  and  that,  no  doubt,  is 
an  evident  contradiction.  But  to  say  that  any  thing  is 
produc'd,  or  to  express  myself  more  properly,  comes 
into  existence,  without  a  cause,  is  not  to  affirm,  that 
'tis  itself  its  own  cause ;  but  on  the  contrary  in  exclud- 
ing all  external  causes,  excludes  a  fortiori  the  thing 
itself  which  is  created.  An  object,  that  exists  abso- 
lutely without  any  cause,  certainly  is  not  its  own  cause ; 
and  when  you  assert,  that  the  one  follows  from  the 
other,  you  suppose  the  very  point  in  question,  and  take 

2  Dr.  Clarke  and  others. 


X 


X 


v^ 


200         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

it  for  granted,  that  'tis  utterly  impossible  any  thing 
can  ever  begin  to  exist  without  a  cause,  but  that  upon 
the  exclusion  of  one  productive  principle,  we  must 
still  have  recourse  to  another. 

'Tis  exactly  the  same  case  with  the^  third  argu- 
ment, which  has  been  employ'd  to  demonstrate  the 
necessity  of  a  cause.  Whatever  is  produc'd  without 
any  cause,  is  produc'd  by  nothing;  or  in  other  words, 
has  nothing  for  its  cause.  But  nothing  can  never  be 
a  cause,  no  more  than  it  can  be  something,  or  equal 
to  two  right  angles.  By  the  same  intuition,  that  we 
perceive  nothing  not  to  be  equal  to  two  right  angles, 
or  not  to  be  something,  we  perceive,  that  it  can  never 
be  a  cause ;  and  consequently  must  perceive,  that  every 
object  has  a  real  cause  of  its  existence. 

I  believe  it  will  not  be  necessary  to  employ  many 
words  in  shewing  the  weakness  of  this  argument,  after 
what  I  have  said  of  the  foregoing.  They  are  all  of 
them  founded  on  the  same  fallacy,  and  are  deriv'd 
from  the  same  turn  of  thought.  'Tis  sufficient  only  to 
observe,  that  when  we  exclude  all  causes  we  really 
do  exclude  them,  and  neither  suppose  nothing  nor  the 
object  itself  to  be  the  causes  of  the  existence;  and 
consequently  can  draw  no  argument  from  the  absurd- 
ity of  these  suppositions  to  prove  the  absurdity  of  that 
exclusion.  If  every  thing  must  have  a  cause,  it  fol- 
lows, that  upon  the  exclusion  of  other  causes  we  must 
accept  of  the  object  itself  or  of  nothing  as  causes. 
But  'tis  the  very  point  in  question,  whether  every 
thing  must  have  a  cause  or  not;  and  therefore,  accord- 
ing to  all  just  reasoning,  it  ought  never  to  be  taken 
for  granted. 

I  Mr.  Locke, 


SECT.  Ill    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    201 

They  are  still  more  frivolous,  who  say,  that  every 
effect  must  have  a  cause,  because  'tis  imply'd  in  the 
very  idea  of  effect.  Every  effect  necessarily  pre-sup- 
poses  a  cause;  effect  being  a  relative  term,  of  which 
cause  is  the  correlative.  But  this  does  not  prove,  that 
every  being  must  be  preceded  by  a  cause;  no  more 
than  it  follows,  because  every  husband  must  have  a 
wife,  that  therefore  every  man  must  be  marry'd.  The 
true  state  of  the  question  is,  whether  every  object, 
which  begins  to  exist,  must  owe  its  existence  to  a 
cause;  and  this  I  assert  neither  to  be  intuitively  nor 
demonstratively  certain,  and  hope  to  have  prov'd  it 
sufficiently  by  the  foregoing  arguments. 

Since  it  is  not  from  knowledge  or  any  scientific 
reasoning,  that  we  derive  the  opinion  of  the  necessity 
of  a  cause  to  every  new  production,  that  opinion  must 
necessarily  arise  from  observation  and  experience. 
The  next  question,  then,  shou'd  naturally  be,  hozv  expe- 
rience gives  rise  to  such  a  principle?  But  as  I  find 
ir"wiTFEie~more  convenient  to  sink  this  question  in  the 
following.  Why  we  conclude,  that  such  particular 
causes  must  necessarily  have  such  particular  effects, 
and  why  we  form  an  inference  from  one  to  another? 
we  shall  make  that  the  subject  of  our  future  enquiry. 
'Twill,  perhaps,  be  found  in  the  end,  that  the  same 
answer  will  serve  for  both  questions. 

*  5jC  5fS  *  *  * 

3):  if.  He  in  if  4c 


/ 


I 


Section    XIV. 
Of  the  idea  of  necessary  connexion. 

Having  thus  explain'd  the  manner,  in  which  we 
reason  beyond  our  immediate  impressions,  and  con- 
clude that  such  particular  causes  must  have  such  par- 
ticular effects;  we  must  now  return  upon  our  foot- 
steps to  examine  that  question,  which^  first  occur'd 
to  us,  and  which  we  dropt  in  our  way,  vis.  What  is 
our  idea  of  necessity,  when  we  say  that  two  objects 
are  necessarily  connected  together.  Upon  this  head 
I  repeat  what  I  have  often  had  occasion  to  observe, 
that  as  we  have  no  idea,  that  is  not  deriv'd  from  an 
impression,  we  must  find  some  impression,  that  gives 
rise  to  this  idea  of  necessity,  if  we  assert  we  have  really 
such  an  idea.  In  order  to  this  I  consider,  in  what 
objects  necessity  is  commonly  suppos'd  to  lie;  and 
finding  that  it  is  always  ascrib'd  to  causes  and  effects, 
I  turn  my  eye  to  two  objects  suppos'd  to  be  plac'd  in 
that  relation;  and  examine  them  in  all  the  situations, 
of  which  they  are  susceptible.  I  immediately  perceive, 
that  they  are  contiguous  in  time  and  place,  and  that 
the  object  we  call  cause  precedes  the  other  we  call 
effect.  In  no  one  instance  can  I  go  any  farther,  nor  is 
it  possible  for  me  to  discover  any  third  relation  betwixt 
these  objects.  I  therefore  enlarge  my  view  to  com- 
prehend several  instances;  where  I  find  like  objects 
always  existing  in  like  relations  of  contiguity  and  suc- 
cession.    At  first  sight  this  seems  to  serve  but  little 

1  Sect.  2. 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    203 

to  my  purpose.  The  reflection  on  several  instances 
only  repeats  the  same  objects ;  and  therefore  can  never 
give  rise  to  a  new  idea.  But  upon  farther  enquiry  I 
find,  that  the  repetition  is  not  in  every  particular  the 
same,  but  produces  a  new  impression,  and  by  that 
means  the  idea,  which  I  at  present  examine.  For  after 
a  frequent  repetition,  I  find,  that  upon  the  appear- 
ance of  one  of  the  objects,  the  mind  is  determined 
by  custom  to  consider  its  usual  attendant,  and  to  con- 
sider it  in  a  stronger  light  upon  account  of  its  rela- 
tion to  the  first  object.  'Tis  this  impression,  then,  or 
determination,  which  affords  me  the  idea  of  necessity. 
I  doubt  not  but  these  consequences  will  at  first 
sight  be  received  without  difficulty,  as  being  evident 
deductions  from  principles,  which  we  have  already 
establish'd,  and  which  we  have  often  employ'd  in  our 
reasonings.  This  evidence  both  in  the  first  principles, 
and  in  the  deductions,  may  seduce  us  unwarily  into  the 
conclusion,  and  make  us  imagine  it  contains  nothing 
extraordinary,  nor  worthy  of  our  curiosity.  But  the' 
such  an  inadvertence  may  facilitate  the  reception  of  this 
reasoning,  'twill  make  it  be  the  more  easily  forgot; 
for  which  reason  I  think  it  proper  to  give  warning, 
that  I  have  just  now  examin'd  one  of  the  most  sublime 
questions  in  philosophy,  vis.  that  concerning  the  power 
and  efficacy  of  causes;  where  all  the  sciences  seem  so 
much  interested.  Such  a  warning  will  naturally  rouze 
up  the  attention  of  the  reader,  and  make  him  desire 
a  more  full  account  of  my  doctrine,  as  well  as  of  the 
arguments,  on  which  it  is  founded.  This  request  is 
so  reasonable,  that  I  cannot  refuse  complying  with  it; 
especially  as  I  am  hopeful  that  these  principles,  the 
more  they  are  examin'd,  will  acquire  the  more  force 
and  evidence. 


204         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

There  is  no  question,  which  on  account  of  its  im- 
portance, as  well  as  difficulty,  has  caus'd  more  disputes 
both  among  antient  and  modern  philosophers,  than  this 
concerning  the  efficacy  of  causes,  or  that  quality  which 
makes  them  be  followed  by  their  effects.  But  before 
they  enter'd  upon  these  disputes,  methinks  it  wou'd  not 
have  been  improper  to  have  examin'd  what  idea  we 
have  of  that  efficacy,  which  is  the  subject  of  the  con- 
troversy. This  is  what  I  find  principally  wanting  in 
their  reasonings,  and  what  I  shall  here  endeavour  to 
supply. 

I  begin  with  observing  that  the  terms  of  efficacy, 
agency,  power,  force,  energy,  necessity,  connexion,  and 
productive  quality,  are  all  nearly  synonimous;  and 
therefore  'tis  an  absurdity  to  employ  any  of  them  in 
defining  the  rest.  By  this  observation  we  reject  at 
once  all  the  vulgar  definitions,  which  philosophers  have 
given  of  power  and  efficacy;  and  instead  of  searching 
for  the  idea  in  these  definitions,  must  look  for  it  in  the 
impressions,  from  which  it  is  originally  deriv'd.  If  it 
be  a  compound  idea,  it  must  arise  from  compound  im- 
pressions.   If  simple,  from  simple  impressions. 

I  believe  the  most  general  and  most  popular  expli- 
cation of  this  matter,  is  to  say,^  that  finding  from 
experience,  that  there  are  several  new  productions  in 
matter,  such  as  the  motions  and  variations  of  body, 
and  concluding  that  there  must  somewhere  be  a  power 
capable  of  producing  them,  we  arrive  at  last  by  this 
reasoning  at  the  idea  of  power  and  efficacy.  But  to 
be  convinc'd  that  this  explication  is  more  popular  than 
philosophical,  we  need  but  reflect  on  two  very  obvious 
principles.  First,  That  reason  alone  can  never  give 
rise  to  any  original  idea,  and  secondly,  that  reason,  as 

1  See  Mr.  Locke;  chapter  of  Power. 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING 


\ 

on-    \ 


distinguish'd  from  experience,  can  never  make  us  con- 
clude, that  a  cause  or  productive  quality  is  absolutely 
requisite  to  every  beginning  of  existence.  Both  these 
considerations  have  been  sufficiently  explain'd;  and 
therefore  shall  not  at  present  be  any  farther  insisted 
on.  " 

I  shall  only  infer  from  them,  that  since  reason  can 
never  give  rise  to  the  idea  of  efficacy,  that  idea  must 
be  deriv'd  from  experience,  and  from  some  particular 
instances  of  this  efficacy,  which  make  their  passage 
into  the  mind  by  the  common  channels  of  sensation  or 
reflection.  Ideas  always  represent  their  objects  or 
impressions;  and  vice  versa,  there  are  some  objects 
necessary  to  give  rise  to  every  idea.  If  we  pretend, 
therefore,  to  have  any  just  idea  of  this  efficacy,  we 
must  produce  some  instance,  wherein  the  efficacy 
is  plainly  discoverable  to  the  mind,  and  its  opera- 
tions obvious  to  our  consciousness  or  sensation.  'By 
the  refusal  of  this,  we  acknowledge,  that  the  idea  is 
impossible  and  imaginary ;  since  the  principle  of  innate 
ideas,  which  alone  can  save  us  from  this  dilemma,  has 
been  already  refuted,  and  is  now  almost  universally 
rejected  in  the  learned  world.  Our  present  business, 
then,  must  be  to  find  some  natural  production,  where 
the  operation  and  efficacy  of  a  cause  can  be  clearly 
conceiv'd  and  comprehended  by  the  mind,  without  any  ^ 
danger  of  obscurity  or  mistake.  — ""^""^ 

In  this  research  we  meet  with  very  little  encourage- 
ment from  that  prodigious  diversity,  which  is  found  in 
the  opinions  of  those  philosophers,  who  have  pretended 
to  explain  the  secret  force  and  energy  of  causes. ^ 
There  are  some,  who  maintain,  that  bodies  operate  by 

1  See  Father  Malhranche^  Book  VI.,  Part  II.,  chap.  3,  and  the 
illustrations  upon  it. 


2o6         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

their  substantial  form;  others,  by  their  accidents  or 
quahties ;  several,  by  their  matter  and  form ;  some,  by 
their  form  and  accidents ;  others,  by  certain  virtues  and 
faculties  distinct  from  all  this.  All  these  sentiments 
again  are  mix'd  and  vary'd  in  a  thousand  different 
ways;  and  form  a  strong  presumption,  that  none  of 
them  have  any  solidity  or  evidence,  and  that  the  sup- 
position of  an  efficacy  in  any  of  the  known  qualities 
of  matter  is  entirely  without  foundation.  This  pre- 
sumption must  encrease  upon  us,  when  we  consider, 
that  these  principles  of  substantial  forms,  and  acci- 
dents, and  faculties,  are  not  in  reality  any  of  the  known 
properties  of  bodies,  but  are  perfectly  unintelligible 
and  inexplicable.  For  'tis  evident  philosophers  wou'd 
never  have  had  recourse  to  such  obscure  and  uncertain 
principles  had  they  met  with  any  satisfaction  in  such 
as  are  clear  and  intelligible ;  especially  in  such  an  affair 
as  this,  which  must  be  an  object  of  the  simplest  under- 
standing, if  not  of  the  senses.  Upon  the  whole,  we 
may  conclude,  that  'tis  impossible  in  any  one  instance 
to  shew  the  principle,  in  which  the  force  and  agency 
of  a  cause  is  plac'd ;  and  that  the  most  refin'd  and  most 
vulgar  understandings  are  equally  at  a  loss  in  this 
particular.  If  any  one  think  proper  to  refute  this 
assertion,  he  need  not  put  himself  to  the  trouble  of 
inventing  any  long  reasonings;  but  may  at  once  shew 
us  an  instance  of  a  cause,  where  we  discover  the  power 
or  operating  principle.  This  defiance  we  are  oblig'd 
frequently  to  make  use  of,  as  being  almost  the  only 
means  of  proving  a  negative  in  philosophy. 

The  small  success,  which  has  been  met  with  in  all 
the  attempts  to  fix  this  power,  has  at  last  oblig'd  phi- 
losophers to  conclude,  that  the  ultimate  force  and  effi- 
cacy of  nature  is  perfectly  unknown  to  us,  and  that 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    207 

'tis  in  vain  we  search  for  it  in  all  the  known  qualities 
of  matter.  In  this  opinion  they  are  almost  unanimous ; 
and  'tis  only  in  the  inference  they  draw  from  it,  that 
they  discover  any  difference  in  their  sentiments.  For 
some  of  them,-  as  the  Cartesians  in  particular,  having 
establish'd  it  as  a  principle,  that  we  are  perfectly  ac- 
quainted with  the  essence  of  matter,  have  very  natur- 
ally inferr'd,  that  it  is  endow'd  with  no  efficacy,  and 
that  'tis  impossible  for  it  of  itself  to  communicate 
motion,  or  produce  any  of  those  effects,  which  we 
ascribe  to  it.  As  the  essence  of  matter  consists  in 
extension,  and  as  extension  implies  not  actual  motion, 
but  only  mobility;  they  conclude,  that  the  energy, 
which  produces  the  motion,  cannot  lie  in  the  extension. 

This  conclusion  leads  them  into  another,  which 
they  regard  as  perfectly  unavoidable.  Matter,  say 
they,  is  in  itself  entirely  unactive,  and  depriv'd  of  any 
power,  by  which  it  may  produce,  or  continue,  or  com- 
municate motion:  But  since  these  effects  are  evident 
to  our  senses,  and  since  the  power,  that  produces  them, 
must  be  plac'd  somewhere,  it  must  lie  in  the  Deity, 
or  that  divine  being,  who  contains  in  his  nature  all 
excellency  and  perfection.  'Tis  the  deity,  therefore, 
who  is  the  prime  mover  of  the  universe,  and  who  not 
only  first  created  matter,  and  gave  it  it's  original  im- 
pulse, but  likewise  by  a  continu'd  exertion  of  omnipo- 
tence, supports  its  existence,  and  successively  bestows 
on  it  all  those  motions,  and  configurations,  and  quali- 
ties, with  which  it  is  endow'd. 

This  opinion  is  certainly  very  curious,  and  well 
worth  our  attention;  but  'twill  appear  superfluous  to 
examine  it  in  this  place,  if  we  reflect  a  moment  on  our 
present  purpose  in  taking  notice  of  it.  We  have  estab- 
lish'd it  as  a  principle,  that  as  all  ideas  are  deriv'd 


2o8         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

from  impressions,  or  some  precedent  perceptions,  'tis 
impossible  we  can  have  any  idea  of  power  and  efficacy, 
unless  some  instances  can  be  produc'd,  wherein  this 
power  is  perceiv'd  to  exert  itself.  Now  as  these  in- 
stances can  never  be  discovered  in  body,  the  Cartesians, 
proceeding  upon  their  principle  of  innate  ideas,  have 
had  recourse  to  a  supreme  spirit  or  deity,  whom  they 
consider  as  the  only  active  being  in  the  universe,  and 
as  the  immediate  cause  of  every  alteration  in  matter. 
But  the  principle  of  innate  ideas  being  allow'd  to  be 
false,  it  follows,  that  the  supposition  of  a  deity  can 
serve  us  in  no  stead,  in  accounting  for  that  idea  of 
agency,  which  we  search  for  in  vain  in  all  the  objects 
which  are  presented  to  our  senses,  or  which  we  are 
internally  conscious  of  in  our  own  minds.  For  if 
every  idea  be  deriv'd  from  an  impression,  the  idea  of 
a  deity  proceeds  from  the  same  origin;  and  if  no 
impression,  either  of  sensation  or  reflection,  implies 
any  force  or  efficacy,  'tis  equally  impossible  to  discover 
or  even  imagine  any  such  active  principle  in  the  deity. 
Since  these  philosophers,  therefore,  have  concluded, 
that  matter  cannot  be  endow 'd  with  any  efficacious 
principle,  because  'tis  impossible  to  discover  in  it  such 
a  principle;  the  same  course  of  reasoning  shou'd  de- 
termine them  to  exclude  it  from  the  supreme  being. 
Or  if  they  esteem  that  opinion  absurd  and  impious,  as 
it  really  is,  I  shall  tell  them  how  they  may  avoid  it; 
and  that  is,  by  concluding  from  the  very  first,  that 
they  have  no  adequate  idea  of  power  or  efficacy  in  any 
object;  since  neither  in  body  nor  spirit,  neither  in 
superior  nor  inferior  natures,  are  they  able  to  discover 
one  single  instance  of  it. 

The  same  conclusion  is  unavoidable  upon  the  hy- 
pothesis of  those,  who  maintain  the  efficacy  of  second 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    209 

causes,  and  attribute  a  derivative,  but  a  real  power  and 
energy  to  matter.  For  as  they  confess,  that  this  energy 
Hes  not  in  any  of  the  known  qualities  of  matter,  the 
difficulty  still  remains  concerning  the  origin  of  its  idea. 
If  we  have  really  an  idea  of  power,  we  may  attribute 
power  to  an  unknown  quality:  But  as  'tis  impossible, 
that  that  idea  can  be  deriv'd  from  such  a  quality,  and 
as  there  is  nothing  in  known  qualities,  which  can  pro- 
duce it;  it  follows  that  we  deceive  ourselves,  when  we 
imagine  we  are  possest  of  any  idea  of  this  kind,  after 
the  manner  we  commonly  understand  it.  All  ideas  are 
deriv'd  from,  and  represent  impressions.  We  never 
have  any  impression,  that  contains  any  power  or  effi- 
cacy.   We  never  therefore  have  any  idea  of  power. 

It  has  been  establish'd  as  a  certain  principle,  that 
general  or  abstract  ideas  are  nothing  but  individual 
ones  taken  in  a  certain  light,  and  that,  in  reflecting 
on  any  object,  'tis  as  impossible  to  exclude  from  our 
thought  all  particular  degrees  of  quantity  and  quality 
as  from  the  real  nature  of  things.  If  we  be  possest, 
therefore,  of  any  idea  of  power  in  general,  we  must 
also  be  able  to  conceive  some  particular  species  of  it; 
and  as  power  cannot  subsist  alone,  but  is  always  re- 
garded as  an  attribute  of  some  being  or  existence,  we 
must  be  able  to  place  this  power  in  some  particular 
being,  and  conceive  that  being  as  endow'd  with  a  real 
force  and  energy,  by  which  such  a  particular  effect 
necessarily  results  from  its  operation.  We  must  dis- 
tinctly and  particularly  conceive  the  connexion  betwixt 
the  cause  and  effect,  and  be  able  to  pronounce,  from 
a  simple  view  of  the  one,  that  it  must  be  follow'd  or 
preceded  by  the  other.  This  is  the  true  manner  of 
conceiving  a  particular  power  in  a  particular  body: 
and  a  general  idea  being  impossible  without  an  indi- 


210         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

vidual;  where  the  latter  is  impossible,  'tis  certain  the 
former  can  never  exist.  Now  nothing  is  more  evident, 
than  that  the  human  mind  cannot  form  such  an  idea 
of  two  objects,  as  to  conceive  any  connexion  betwixt 
them,  or  comprehend  distinctly  that  power  and  efficacy, 
by  which  they  are  united.  Such  a  connexion  wou'd 
amount  to  a  demonstration,  and  wou'd  imply  the  abso- 
lute impossibility  for  the  one  object  not  to  follow,  or 
to  be  conceiv'd  not  to  follow  upon  the  other:  Which 
kind  of  connexion  has  already  been  rejected  in  all 
cases.  If  any  one  is  of  a  contrary  opinion,  and  thinks 
he  has  attain'd  a  notion  of  power  in  any  particular 
object,  I  desire  he  may  point  out  to  me  that  object. 
But  till  I  meet  with  such-a-one,  which  I  despair  of,  I 
cannot  forbear  concluding,  that  since  we  can  never 
distinctly  conceive  how  any  particular  power  can  pos- 
sibly reside  in  any  particular  object,  we  deceive  our- 
selves in  imagining  we  can  form  any  such  general 
idea. 

Thus  upon  the  whole  we  may  infer,  that  when  we 
talk  of  any  being,  whether  of  a  superior  or  inferior 
nature,  as  endow'd  with  a  power  or  force,  proportion'd 
to  any  effect ;  when  we  speak  of  a  necessary  connexion 
betwixt  objects,  and  suppose,  that  this  connexion  de- 
pends upon  an  efficacy  or  energy,  with  which  any  of 
these  objects  are  endow'd;  in  all  these  expressions,  so 
apply'd,  we  have  really  no  distinct  meaning,  and  make 
use  only  of  common  words,  without  any  clear  and 
determinate  ideas.  But  as  'tis  more  probable,  that 
these  expressions  do  here  lose  their  true  meaning  by 
being  wrong  apply  d,  than  that  they  never  have  any 
meaning;  'twill  be  proper  to  bestow  another  consider- 
ation on  this  subject,  to  see  if  possibly  we  can  discover 
the  nature  and  origin  of  those  ideas,  we  annex  to  them. 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  L  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    211 

Suppose  two  objects  to  be  presented  to  us,  of  which 
the  one  is  the  cause  and  the  other  the  effect ;  'tis  plain, 
that  from  the  simple  consideration  of  one,  or  both 
these  objects  we  never  shall  perceive  the  tie,  by  which 
they  are  united,  or  be  able  certainly  to  pronounce,  that 
there  is  a  connexion  betwixt  them.  Tis  not,  there- 
fore, from  any  one  instance,  that  we  arrive  at  the 
idea  of  cause  and  effect,  of  a  necessary  connexion  of 
power,  of  force,  of  energy,  and  of  efficacy.  Did  we 
never  see  any  but  particular  conjunctions  of  objects, 
entirely  different  from  each  other,  we  shou'd  never  be 
able  to  form  any  such  ideas. 

But  again;  suppose  we  observe  several  instances, 
in  which  the  same  objects  are  always  conjoin'd  to- 
gether, we  immediately  conceive  a  connexion  betwixt 
them,  and  begin  to  draw  an  inference  from  one  to 
another.  This  multiplicity  of  resembling  instances, 
therefore,  constitutes  the  very  essence  of  power  or 
connexion,  and  is  the  source,  from  which  the  idea  of 
it  arises.  In  order,  then,  to  understand  the  idea  of 
power,  we  must  consider  that  multiplicity;  nor  do  I 
ask  more  to  give  a  solution  of  that  difficulty,  which 
has  so  long  perplex'd  us.  For  thus  I  reason.  The 
repetition  of  perfectly  similar  instances  can  never  alone 
give  rise  to  an  original  idea,  different  from  what  is  to 
be  found  in  any  particular  instance,  as  has  been  ob- 
serv'd,  and  as  evidently  follows  from  our  fundamen- 
tal principle,  that  all  ideas  are  copy'd  from  impressions. 
Since  therefore  the  idea  of  power  is  a  new  original 
idea,  not  to  be  found  in  any  one  instance,  and  which 
yet  arises  from  the  repetition  of  several  instances,  it 
follows,  that  the  repetition  alone  has  not  that  effect, 
but  must  either  discover  or  produce  something  new, 
which  is  the  source  of  that  idea.    Did  the  repetition 


212         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

neither  discover  nor  produce  any  thing  new,  our  ideas 
might  be  multiply 'd  by  it,  but  wou'd  not  be  enlarg'd 
above  what  they  are  upon  the  observation  of  one  single 
instance.  Every  enlargement,  therefore,  (such  as  the 
idea  of  power  or  connexion)  which  arises  from  the 
multiplicity  of  similar  instances,  is  copy'd  from  some 
effects  of  the  multiplicity,  and  will  be  perfectly  under- 
stood by  understanding  these  effects.  Wherever  we 
find  any  thing  new  to  be  discover'd  or  produc'd  by  the 
repetition,  there  we  must  place  the  power,  and  must 
never  look  for  it  in  any  other  object. 

But  'tis  evident,  in  the  first  place,  that  the  repeti- 
tion of  like  objects  in  like  relations  of  succession  and 
contiguity  discovers  nothing  new  in  any  one  of  them; 
since  we  can  draw  no  inference  from  it,  nor  make  it  a 
subject  either  of  our  demonstrative  or  probable  rea- 
sonings ;i  as  has  been  already  prov'd.  Nay  suppose  we 
cou'd  draw  an  inference,  'twou'd  be  of  no  consequence 
in  the  present  case;  since  no  kind  of  reasoning  can 
give  rise  to  a  new  idea,  such  as  this  of  power  is ;  but 
wherever  we  reason,  we  must  antecedently  be  possest 
of  clear  ideas,  which  may  be  the  objects  of  our  reason- 
ing. The  conception  always  precedes  the  understand- 
ing; and  where  the  one  is  obscure,  the  other  is  uncer- 
tain; where  the  one  fails,  the  other  must  fail  also. 

Secondly,  'Tis  certain  that  this  repetition  of  similar 
objects  in  similar  situations  produces  nothing  new 
either  in  these  objects,  or  in  any  external  body.  For 
'twill  readily  be  allow'd,  that  the  several  instances  we 
have  of  the  conjunction  of  resembling  causes  and 
effects  are  in  themselves  entirely  independent,  and  that 
the  communication  of  motion,  which  I  see  result  at 
present  from  the  shock  of  two  billiard-balls,  is  totally 

1  Sect.  6. 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  L  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    213 

distinct  from  that  which  I  saw  result  from  such  an 
impulse  a  twelve-month  ago.  These  impulses  have  no 
influence  on  each  other.  They  are  entirely  divided  by 
time  and  place;  and  the  one  might  have  existed  and 
communicated  motion,  tho'  the  other  never  had  been 
in  being. 

There  is,  then,  nothing  new  either  discover'd  or 
produc'd  in  any  objects  by  their  constant  conjunction, 
and  by  the  uninterrupted  resemblance  of  their  rela- 
tions of  succession  and  contiguity.  But  'tis  from  this 
resemblance,  that  the  ideas  of  necessity,  of  power,  and 
of  efficacy,  are  deriv'd.  These  ideas,  therefore,  rep- 
resent not  any  thing,  that  does  or  can  belong  to  the 
objects,  which  are  constantly  conjoin'd.  This  is  an 
argument,  which,  in  every  view  we  can  examine  it, 
will  be  found  perfectly  unanswerable.  Similar  in- 
stances are  still  the  first  source  of  our  idea  of  power 
or  necessity ;  at  the  same  time  that  they  have  no  influ- 
ence by  their  similarity  either  on  each  other,  or  on  any 
external  object.  We  must  therefore,  turn  ourselves 
to  some  other  quarter  to  seek  the  origin  of  that  idea. 

Tho'  the  several  resembling  instances,  which  give 
rise  to  the  idea  of  power,  have  no  influence  on  each 
other,  and  can  never  produce  any  new  quality  in  the 
object,  which  can  be  the  model  of  that  idea,  yet  the 
observation  of  this  resemblance  produces  a  new  im- 
pression in  the  mind,  which  is  its  real  model.  For 
after  we  have  observ'd  the  resemblance  in  a  sufficient 
number  of  instances,  we  immediately  feel  a  determin- 
ation of  the  mind  to  pass  from  one  object  to  its  usual 
attendant,  and  to  conceive  it  in  a  stronger  light  upon 
account  of  that  relation.  This  determination  is  the 
only  effect  of  the  resemblance;  and  therefore  must  be 
the  same  with  power  or  efficacy,  whose  idea  is  de- 


214         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

riv'd  from  the  resemblance.  The  several  instances  of 
resembling  conjunctions  lead  us  into  the  notion  of 
power  and  necessity.  These  instances  are  in  them- 
selves totally  distinct  from  each  other,  and  have  no 
union  but  in  the  mind,  which  observes  them,  and  col- 
lects their  ideas.  Necessity,  then,  is  the  effect  of  this 
observation,  and  is  nothing  but  an  internal  impres- 
sion of  the  mind,  or  a  determination  to  carry  our 
thoughts  from  one  object  to  another.  Without  con- 
sidering it  in  this  view,  we  can  never  arrive  at  the  most 
distant  notion  of  it,  or  be  able  to  attribute  it  either 
to  external  or  internal  objects,  to  spirit  or  body,  to 
causes  or  effects. 

The  necessary  connexion  betwixt  causes  and  effects 
is  the  foundation  of  our  inference  from  one  to  the 
other.  The  foundation  of  our  inference  is  the  tran- 
sition arising  from  the  accustom'd  union.  These  are, 
therefore,  the  same. 

The  idea  of  necessity  arises  from  some  impression. 
There  is  no  impression  convey'd  by  our  senses,  which 
can  give  rise  to  that  idea.  It  must,  therefore,  be 
deriv'd  from  some  internal  impression,  or  impression 
of  reflexion.  There  is  no  internal  impression,  which 
has  any  relation  to  the  present  business,  but  that  pro- 
pensity, which  custom  produces,  to  pass  from  an  object 
to  the  idea  of  its  usual  attendant.  This  therefore  is 
the  essence  of  necessity.  Upon  the  whole,  necessity 
is  something,  that  exists  in  the  mind,  not  in  objects; 
nor  is  it  possible  for  us  ever  to  form  the  most  distant 
idea  of  it,  consider'd  as  a  quality  in  bodies.  Either 
we  have  no  idea  of  necessity,  or  necessity  is  nothing 
but  that  determination  of  the  thought  to  pass  from 
causes  to  effects  and  from  effects  to  causes,  according 
to  their  experienced  union. 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    215 

Thus  as  the  necessity,  which  makes  two  times  two 
equal  to  four,  or  three  angles  of  a  triangle  equal  to 
two  right  ones,  lies  only  in  the  act  of  the  understand- 
ing, by  which  we  consider  and  compare  these  ideas; 
in  like  manner  the  necessity  or  power,  which  unites 
causes  and  effects,  lies  in  the  determination  of  the 
mind  to  pass  from  the  one  to  the  other.  The  efficacy 
or  energy  of  causes  is  neither  plac'd  in  the  causes 
themselves,  nor  in  the  deity,  nor  in  the  concurrence  of 
these  two  principles ;  but  belongs  entirely  to  the  soul, 
which  considers  the  union  of  two  or  more  objects  in 
all  past  instances.  'Tis  here  that  the  real  power  of 
causes  is  plac'd,  along  with  their  connexion  and  neces- 
sity. 

I  am  sensible,  that  of  all  the  paradoxes,  which  I 
have  had,  or  shall  hereafter  have  occasion  to  advance 
in  the  course  of  this  treatise,  the  present  one  is  the 
most  violent,  and  that  'tis  merely  by  dint  of  solid 
proof  and  reasoning  I  can  ever  hope  it  will  have  ad- 
mission, and'^overcdfne  the  inveterate  prejudices  of 
mankind.  Before  we  are  reconcil'd  to  this  doctrine, 
how  often  must  we  repeat  to  ourselves,  that  the  simple 
view  of  any  two  objects  or  actions,  however  related, 
can  never  give  us  any  idea  of  power,  or  of  a  connexion 
betwixt  them :  that  this  idea  arises  from  the  repetition 
of  their  union :  that  the  repetition  neither  discovers  nor 
causes  any  thing  in  the  objects,  but  has  an  influence 
only  on  the  mind,  by  that  customary  transition  it  pro- 
duces :  that  this  customary  transition  is,  therefore,  the 
same  with  the  power  and  necessity;  which  are  conse- 
quently qualities  of  perceptions,  not  of  objects,  and 
are  internally  felt  by  the  soul,  and  not  perceiv'd  exter- 
nally in  bodies?  There  is  commonly  an  astonishment 
attending  every  thing  extraordinary ;  and  this  astonish- 


2i6         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

merit  changes  immediately  into  the  highest  degree  of 
esteem  or  contempt,  according  as  we  approve  or  dis- 
approve of  the  subject.  I  am  much  afraid,  that  tho' 
the  foregoing  reasoning  appears  to  me  the  shortest 
and  most  decisive  imaginable;  yet  with  the  generality 
of  readers  the  biass  of  the  mind  will  prevail,  and  give 
them  a  prejudice  against  the  present  doctrine. 

This  contrary  biass  is  easily  accounted  for.  'Tis  a 
common  observation,  that  the  mind  has  a  great  pro- 
pensity to  spread  itself  on  external  objects,  and  to 
conjoin  with  them  any  internal  impressions,  which 
they  occasion,  and  which  always  make  their  appear- 
ance at  the  same  time  that  these  objects  discover  them- 
selves to  the  senses.  Thus  as  certain  sounds  and  smells 
are  always  found  to  attend  certain  visible  objects,  we 
naturally  imagine  a  conjunction,  even  in  place,  betwixt 
the  objects  and  qualities,  tho'  the  qualities  be  of  such 
a  nature  as  to  admit  of  no  such  conjunction,  and  really 
exist  no  where.  But  of  this  more  fully^  hereafter. 
Mean  while  'tis  sufficient  to  obseTve,  that  tlie  same  pro- 
pensity is  the  reason,  why  we  suppose  necessity  and 
power  to  lie  in  the  objects  we  consider,  not  in  our 
mind,  that  considers  them;  notwithstanding  it  is  not 
possible  for  us  to  form  the  most  distant  idea  of  that 
quality,  when  it  is  not  taken  for  the  determination  of 
the  mind,  to  pass  from  the  idea  of  an  object  to  that 
of  its  usual  attendant. 

But  tho'  this  be  the  only  reasonable  account  we 
can  give  of  necessity,  the  contrary  notion  is  so  riveted 
in  the  mind  from  the  principles  above-mention'd,  that 
I  doubt  not  but  my  sentiments  will  be  treated  by  many 
as  extravagant  and  ridiculous.  What!  the  efficacy  of 
causes  lie  in  the  determination  of  the  mind!     As  if 

1  Part  IV.,  Sect.  5. 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    217 

causes  did  not  operate  entirely  independent  of  the 
mind,  and  wou'd  not  continue  their  operation,  even 
tho'  there  was  no  mind  existent  to  contemplate  them, 
or  reason  concerning  them.  Thought  may  well  depend 
on  causes  for  its  operation,  but  not  causes  on  thought. 
This  is  to  reverse  the  order  of  nature,  and  make  that 
secondary,  which  is  really  primary.  To  every  opera- 
tion there  is  a  power  proportion'd ;  and  this  power 
must  be  plac'd  on  the  body,  that  operates.  If  we 
remove  the  power  from  one  cause,  we  must  ascribe  it 
to  another:  But  to  remove  it  from  all  causes,  and 
bestow  it  on  a  being,  that  is  no  ways  related  to  the 
cause  or  effect,  but  by  perceiving  them,  is  a  gross 
absurdity,  and  contrary  to  the  most  certain  principles 
of  human  reason. 

I  can  only  reply  to  all  these  arguments,  that  the 
case  is  here  much  the  same,  as  if  a  blind  man  shou'd 
pretend  to  find  a  great  many  absurdities  in  the  sup- 
position, that^the  colour  of  scarlet  is  not  the  same  with 
the  sou'ndjj^LjJt^un^netnor  light^jj^^  .<;amp  wit]j_.gn1irl- 
ity.  if  we  have  really_no  idea  ofji  power  or^^cac^ 
in  any  object,  or  of  any  real  connexion  betwLsd:  causes  ^ 
and  effects,  'twill  be  to  little  purpose  to  prove,  that 
an  efficacy  is  necessary  in  all  operations.  We  do  not 
understand  our  own  meaning  in  talking  so,  but  igno- 
rantly  confound  ideas,  which  are  entirely  distinct  from 
each  other.  I  am,  indeed,  ready  to  allow,  that  there 
may  be  several  qualities  both  in  material  and  imma- 
terial objects,  with  which  we  are  utterly  unacquainted; 
and  if  we  please  to  call  these  power  or  efficacy, 
'twill  be  of  little  consequence  to  the  world.  But 
when,  instead  of  meaning  these  unknown  quali- 
ties, we  make  the  terms  of  power  and  efficacy  signify 
something,  of  which  we  have  a  clear  idea,  and  which  is 


2i8         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  III 

incompatible  with  those  objects,  to  which  we  apply  it, 
obscurity  and  error  begin  then  to  take  place,  and  we 
are  led  astray  by  a  false  philosophy.  This  is  the  case, 
when  we  transfer  the  determination  of  the  thought  to 
external  objects,  and  suppose  any  real  intelligible  con- 
nexion betwixt  them;  that  being  a  quality,  which  can 
only  belong  to  the  mind  that  considers  them. 

As  to  what  may  be  said,  that  the  operations  of 
nature  are  independent  of  our  thought  and  reasoning, 
I  allow  it;  and  accordingly  have  observ'd,  that  objects 
bear  to  each  other  the  relations  of  contiguity  and  suc- 
cession; that  like  objects  may  be  observ'd  in  several 
instances  to  have  like  relations;  and  that  all  this  is 
independent  of,  and  antecedent  to  the  operations  of 
the  understanding.  But  if  we  go  any  farther,  and 
ascribe  a  power  or  necessary  connexion  to  these  ob- 
jects; this  is  what  we  can  never  observe  in  them,  but 
must  draw  the  idea  of  it  from  what  we  feel  internally 
in  contemplating  them.    And  this  I  carry  so  far,  that^ 

I  am  _|:g3dv  to  rnnygd-  n^v  jTrp^pnt  ^  r^agnn^  mto  an 

instance  of  it,  by  a  subtilityTwrnchit  will  nnt  ISf  ^lififiT 
cult  to  CQffiprehend. 

When  any  object  is  presented  to  us,  it  immediately 
conveys  to  the  mind  a  lively  idea  of  that  object,  whkh 
is  usually  found  to  attend  it;  and  this  determination 
of  the  mind  forms  the  necessary  connexion  of  theses 
objects.  But  when  we  change  the  point  of  view,  from^ 
the  objects  to  the  perceptions;  in  that  case  the  impres- 
sion is  to  be  considered  as  the  cause,  and  the  lively 
idea  as  the  effect;  and  their  necessary  connexion  is 
that  new  determination,  which  we  feel  to  pass  from 
the  idea  of  the  one  to  that  of  the  other.  The  uniting 
principle  among  our  internal  perceptions  is  as  unin- 
telligible as  that  among  external  objects,  and  is  not 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    219 

known  to  us  any  other  way  than  by  experience.  Now 
the  nature  and  effects  of  experience  have  been  already 
sufficiently  examin'd  and  explain'd.  It  never  gives  us 
any  insight  into  the  internal  structure  or  operating 
principle  of  objects,  but  only  accustoms  the  mind  to 
pass  from  one  to  another. 

Tis  now  time  to  collect  all  the  different  parts  of 
this  reasoning,  and  by  joining  them  together  form  an 
exact  definition  of  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect, 
which  makes  the  subject  of  the  present  enquiry.  This 
order  wou'd  not  have  been  excusable,  of  first  examin- 
ing our  inference  from  the  relation  before  we 
had  explain'd  the  relation  itself,  had  it  been  pos- 
sible to  proceed  in  a  different  method.  But  as  the 
nature  of  the  relation  depends  so  much  on  that  of  the 
inference,  we  have  been  oblig'd  to  advance  in  this 
seemingly  preposterous  manner,  and  make  use  of 
terms  before  we  were  able  exactly  to  define  them,  or 
fix  their  meaning.  We  shall  now  correct  this  fault 
by  giving  a  precise  definition  of  cause  and  effect. 

There  may  two  definitions  be  given  of  this  relation, 
which  are  only  different,  by  their  presenting  a  different 
view  of  the  same  object,  and  making  us  consider  it 
either  as  a  philosophical  or  as  a  natural  relation; 
either  as  a  comparison  of  two  ideas,  or  as  an  associa- 
tion betwixt  them.  We  may  define  a  cause  to  be  *An 
object  precedent  and  contiguous  to  another,  and  where 
all  theobjects  resembling  the  former  are  plac'd  in  like 
relations  of  precedency  and  contiguity  to  those  objects, 
that  resemble  the  latter.'  If  this  definition  be  esteem'd 
defective,  because  drawn  from  objects  foreign  to  the 
cause,  we  may  substitute  this  other  definition  in  its 
place,  zi2.  'A  cause  is  an  object  precedent  and  con- 
tiguous to  another,  and  so  united  with  it,  that  the  idea 


220         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE.  PART  III 

of  the  one  determines  the  mind  to  form  the  idea  of 
tEe  other,  and  the  impression  of  the  one  to  form  a 
morejively  idea  of  the  other/  Shou'd  this  definition 
also  be  rejected  for  the  same  reason,  I  know  no  other 
remedy,  than  that  the  persons,  who  express  this  deH- 
cacy,  should  substitute  a  juster  definition  in  its  place. 
But  for  my  part  I  must  own  my  incapacity  for 
such  an  undertaking.  When  I  examine  with  the  ut- 
most accuracy  those  objects,  which  are  commonly 
denominated  causes  and  effects,  I  find,  in  considering 
a  single  instance,  that  the  one  object  is  precedent  and 
contiguous  to  the  other;  and  in  inlarging  my  view  to 
consider  several  instances,  I  find  only,  that  like  objects 
are  constantly  plac'd  in  like  relations  of  succession  and 
contiguity.  Again,  when  I  consider  the  influence  of 
this  constant  conjunction,  I  perceive,  that  such  a  rela- 
tion can  never  be  an  object  of  reasoning,  and  can  never 
operate  upon  the  mind,  but  by  means  of  custom,  which 
determines  the  imagination  to  make  a  transition  from 
the  idea  of  one  object  to  that  of  its  usual  attendant, 
and  from  the  impression  of  one  to  a  more  lively  idea 
of  the  other.  However  extraordinary  these  sentiments 
may  appear,  I  think  it  fruitless  to  trouble  myself  with 
any  farther  enquiry  or  reasoning  upon  the  subject,  but 
shall  repose  myself  on  them  as  on  established  maxims. 
Twill  only  be  proper,  before  we  leave  this  subject, 
to  draw  some  corollaries  from  it,  by  which  we  may 
remove  several  prejudices  and  popular  errors,  that 
have  very  much  prevail'd  in  philosophy.  First,  We 
may  learn  from  the  foregoing  doctrine,  that  all  causes 
are  of  the  same  kind,  and  that  in  particular  there  is 
no  foundation  for  that  distinction,  which  we  sometimes 
make  betwixt  efficient  causes,  and  causes  sine  qua  non; 
or  betwixt  efficient  causes,  and  formal,  and  material, 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    221 

and  exemplary,  and  final  causes.  For  as  our  idea  of 
efficiency  is  deriv'd  from  the  constant  conjunction  of 
two  objects,  wherever  this  is  observ'd,  the  cause  is 
efficient;  and  where  it  is  not,  there  can  never  be  a 
cause  of  any  kind.  For  the  same  reason  we  must 
reject  the  distinction  betwixt  cause  and  occasion,  when 
suppos'd  to  signify  any  thing  essentially  different  from 
each  other.  If  constant  conjunction  be  imply 'd  in 
what  we  call  occasion,  'tis  a  real  cause.  If  not,  'tis 
no  relation  at  all,  and  cannot  give  rise  to  any  argu- 
ment or  reasoning. 

Secondly,  The  same  course  of  reasoning  will  make 
us  conclude,  that  there  is  but  one  kind  of  necessity, 
as  there  is  but  one  kind  of  cause,  and  that  the  common 
distinction  betwixt  moral  and  physical  necessity  is 
without  any  foundation  in  nature.  This  clearly  ap- 
pears from  the  precedent  explication  of  necessity.  'Tis 
the  constant  conjunction  of  objects,  along  with  the 
determination  of  the  mind,  which  constitutes  a  physi- 
cal necessity:  And  the  removal  of  these  is  the  same 
thing  with  chance.  As  objects  must  either  be  con- 
join'd  or  not,  and  as  the  mind  must  either  be  deter- 
min'd  or  not  to  pass  from  one  object  to  another,  'tis 
impossible  to  admit  of  any  medium  betwixt  chance  and 
an  absolute -necessity.  In  weakening  this  conjunction 
and  determination  you  do  not  change  the  nature  of 
the  necessity;  since  even  in  the  operation  of  bodies, 
these  have  different  degrees  of  constancy  and  force, 
without  producing  a  different  species  of  that  relation. 

The  distinction,  which  we  often  make  betwixt 
power  and  the  exercise  of  it,  is  equally  without  foun- 
dation. 

Thirdly,  We  may  now  be  able  fully  to  overcome 
all  that  repugnance,  which  'tis  so  natural  for  us  to 


222         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE.    PART  III 

entertain  against  the  foregoing  reasoning,  by  which 
we  endeavour'd  to  prove,  that  the  necessity  of  a  cause 
to  every  beginning  of  existence  is  not  founded  on  any 
arguments  either  demonstrative  or  intuitive.  Such  an 
opinion  will  not  appear  strange  after  the  foregoing 
definitions.  If  we  define  a  cause  to  be  an  object  pre- 
cedent and  contiguous  to  another,  and  where  all  the 
objects  resembling  the  former  are  plac'd  in  a  like 
relation  of  priority  and  contiguity  to  those  objects,  that 
resemble  the  laitter;  we  may  easily  conceive,  that  there 
is  no  absolute  nor  metaphysical  necessity,  that  every 
beginning  of  existence  shou'd  be  attended  with  such 
an  object.  If  we  define  a  cause  to  be.  An  object  pre- 
cedent and  contiguous  to  another,  and  so  united  with  it 
in  the  imagination,  that  the  idea  of  the  one  determines 
the  mind  to  form  the  idea  of  the  other,  and  the  im- 
pression of  the  one  to  form  a  more  lively  idea  of  the 
other;  we  shall  make  still  less  difficulty  of  assenting  to 
this  opinion.  Such  an  influence  on  the  mind  is  in 
itself  perfectly  extraordinary  and  incomprehensible; 
nor  can  we  be  certain  of  its  reality,  but  from  experi- 
ence and  observation. 

I  shall  add  as  a  fourth  corrollary,  that  we  can  never 
have  reason  to  believe  that  any  object  exists,  of  which 
we  cannot  form  an  idea.  For  as  all  our  reasonings 
concerning  existence  are  deriv'd  from  causation,  and 
as  all  our  reasonings  concerning  causation  are  deriv'd 
from  the  experienc'd  conjunction  of  objects,  not  from 
any  reasoning  or  reflexion,  the  same  experience  must 
give  us  a  notion  of  these  objects,  and  must  remove  all 
mystery  from  our  conclusions.  This  is  so  evident, 
that  'twou'd  scarce  have  merited  our  attention,  were 
it  not  to  obviate  certain  objections  of  this  kind,  which 
might  arise  against  the  following  reasonings  concern- 


SECT.  XIV    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    223 

ing  matter  and  substance.  I  need  not  observe,  that  a 
full  knowledge  of  the  object  is  not  requisite,  but  only 
of  those  qualities  of  it,  which  we  believe  to  exist. 


THE  DOCTRINE  OF  SUBSTANCE 


SELECTIONS  FROM 
BOOK  /.,  PARTS  /.,  //.,  IF. 


PART  I. 

OF   IDEAS,   THEIR   ORIGIN,    COMPOSITION, 
CONNEXION,  ABSTRACTION. 

♦  5|C  ♦  ♦  *  * 

****** 

Section   VI. 
Of  modes  and  substances. 

I  wou'd  fain  ask  those  philosophers,  who  found  so 
much  of  their  reasonings  on  the  distinction  of  sub- 
stance and  accident,  and  imagine  we  have  clear  ideas 
of  each,  whether  the  idea  of  substance  be  deriv'd  from 
the  impressions  of  sensation  or  reflexion?  If  it  be 
convey 'd  to  us  by  our  senses,  I  ask,  which  of  them; 
and  after  what  manner?  If  it  be  perceiv'd  by  the  eyes, 
it  must  be  colour;  if  by  the  ears,  a  sound;  if  by  the 
palate,  a  taste;  and  so  of  the  other  senses.  But  I 
believe  none  will  assert,  that  substance  is  either  a 
colour,  or  sound,  or  a  taste.  The  idea  of  substance 
must  therefore  be  deriv'd  from  an  impression  of  re- 
flexion, if  it  really  exist.  But  the  impressions  of  re- 
flexion resolve  themselves  into  our  passions  and  emo- 
tions; none  of  which  can  possibly  represent  a  sub- 
stance. We  have  therefore  no  idea  of  substance,  dis-  s  ,/ 
tinct  from  that  of  a  collection  of  particular  qualities.  X^/' 
nor  have  we  any  other  meaning  when  we  either  talk 
or  reason  concerning  it. 

The  idea  of  a  substance  as  well  as  that  of  a  mode, 
is  nothing  but  a  collection  of  simple  ideas,  that  are 
united  by  the  imagination,  and  have  a  particular  name 


228         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE      PART  I 

assigned  them,  by  which  we  are  able  to  recall,  either 
to  ourselves  or  others,  that  collection.  But  the  differ- 
ence betwixt  these  ideas  consists  in  this,  that  the  par- 
ticular qualities,  which  form  a  substance,  are  com- 
monly refer'd  to  an  unknown  something,  in  which  they 
are  supposed  to  inhere ;  or  granting  this  fiction  should 
not  take  place,  are  at  least  supposed  to  be  closely  and 
inseparably  connected  by  the  relations  of  contiguity 
and  causation.  The  effect  of  this  is,  that  whatever 
new  simple  quality  we  discover  to  have  the  same  con- 
nexion with  the  rest,  we  immediately  comprehend  it 
among  them,  even  tho'  it  did  not  enter  into  the  first 
conception  of  the  substance.  Thus  our  idea  of  gold 
may  at  first  be  a  yellow  colour,  weight,  malleableness, 
fusibility;  but  upon  the  discovery  of  its  dissolubility 
in  aqua  regia,  we  join  that  to  the  other  qualities,  and 
suppose  it  to  belong  to  the  substance  as  much  as  if 
its  idea  had  from  the  beginning  made  a  part  of  the 
compound  one.  The  principle  of  union  being  regarded 
as  the  chief  part  of  the  complex  idea,  gives  entrance 
to  whatever  quality  afterwards  occurs,  and  is  equally 
comprehended  by  it,  as  are  the  others,  which  first  pre- 
sented themselves. 

That  this  cannot  take  place  in  modes,  is  evident 
from  considering  their  nature.  The  simple  ideas  of 
which  modes  are  formed,  either  represent  qualities, 
which  are  not  united  by  contiguity  and  causation,  but 
are  dispers'd  in  different  subjects;  or  if  they  be  all 
united  together,  the  uniting  principle  is  not  regarded 
as  the  foundation  of  the  complex  idea.  The  idea  of  a 
dance  is  an  instance  of  the  first  kind  of  modes ;  that  of 
beauty  of  the  second.  The  reason  is  obvious,  why  such 
complex  ideas  cannot  receive  any  new  idea,  without 
changing  the*name,  which  distinguishes  the  mode. 


PART   II. 
OF  THE  IDEAS  OF  SPACE  AND  TIME. 

*****  5|C 

****** 

Section    VI. 
Of  the  idea  of  existence,  and  of  external  existence. 

It  may  not  be  amiss,  before  we  leave  this  subject, 
to  explain  the  ideas  of  existence  and  of  external  exist- 
ence;  which  have  their  difficulties,  as  well  as  the  ideas 
of  space  and  time.  By  this  means  we  shall  be  the  better 
prepar'd  for  the  examination  of  knowledge  and  prob- 
ability, when  we  understand  perfectly  all  those  par- 
ticular ideas,  which  may  enter  into  our  reasoning. 

There  is  no  impression  nor  idea  of  any  kind,  of 
which  we  have  any  consciousness  or  memory,  that  is 
not  conceiv'd  as  existent;  and  'tis  evident,  that  from 
this  consciousness  the  most  perfect  idea  and  assur- 
ance of  being  is  deriv'd.  From  hence  v/e  may  form  a 
dilemm.a,  the  most  clear  and  conclusive  that  can  be 
imagin'd,  viz.  that  since  we  never  remember  any  idea 
or  impression  without  attributing  existence  to  it,  the 
idea  of  existence  must  either  be  deriv'd  from  a^lFtinct 
impression,  conjoin'd  with  every  perception  or  object 
of  our  thought,  or  must  be  the  very  same  with  the  idea 
of  the  perception  or  object. 

As  this  dilemma  is  an  evident  consequence  of  the 
principle,  that  every  idea  arises  from  a  similar  impres- 


230         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  II 

sion,  so  our  decision  betwixt  the  propositions  of  the 
dilemma  is  no  more  doubtful.  So  far  from  there  being 
any  distinct  impression,  attending  every  impression 
and  every  idea,  that  I  do  not  think  there  are  any  two 
distinct  impressions,  which  are  inseparably  conjoin'd. 
Tho'  certain  sensations  may  at  one  time  be  united,  we 
quickly  find  they  admit  of  a  separation,  and  may  be 
presented  apart.  And  thus,  tho'  every  impression  and 
idea  we  remember  be  consider'd  as  existent,  thejdea, 
of  existence  is  not  derived  from  any  particular  impres- 
sion. 

The  idea  of  existence,  then,  is  the  very  same  with 
the  idea  of  what  we  conceive  to  be  existent.  To  reflect 
on  any  thing  simply,  and  to  reflect  on  it  as  existent, 
are  nothing  different  from  each  other.  That  idea, 
when  conjoin'd  with  the  idea  of  any  object,  makes  no 
addition  to  it.  Whatever  we  conceive,  we  concdvfiJxt 
be  existent.  Any  idea  we  please  to  form  is  the  idea 
of  a  being;  and  the  idea  of  a  being  is  any  idea  we 
please  to  form. 

Whoever  opposes  this,  must  necessarily  point  out 
that  distinct  impression,  from  which  the  idea  of  entity 
is  deriv'd,  and  must  prove,  that  this  impression  is  in- 
separable from  every  perception  we  believe  to  be  exist- 
ent. This  we  may  without  hesitation  coticlude  to  be 
impossible. 

Our  foregoing^  reasoning  concerning  the  distinc- 
tion of  ideas  without  any  real  difference  will  not  here 
^erve  us  in  any  stead.  That  kind  of  distinction  is 
founded  on  the  different  resemblances,  which  the  same 
simple  idea  may  have  to  several  different  ideas.  But 
no  object  can  be  presented  resembling  some  object 
with  respect  to  its  existence,  and  different  from  others 

1  Part  I.,  Sect.  7. 


SECT.  VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    231 

in  the  same  particular ;  since  every  object,  that  is  pre- 
sented, must  necessarily  be  existent. 

A  like  reasoning  will  account  for  the  idea  of  exter- 
nal existence.  We  may  observe,  that  'tis  universally 
allow'd  by  philosophers,  and  is  besides  pretty  obvious 
of  itself,  that  nothing  is  ever  really  present  with  the 
mind  but  its  perceptions  or  impressions  and  ideas,  and 
that  external  objects  become  known  to  us  only  by  those 
perceptions  they  occasion.  To  hate,  to  love,  to  think, 
to  feel,  to  see ;  all  this  is  nothing  but  to  perceive. 

Now  since  nothing  is  ever  present  to  the  mind  but 
perceptions,  and  since  all  ideas  are  deriv'd  from  some- 
thing antecedently  present  to  the  mind ;  it  follows,  that 
'tis  impossible  for  us  so  much  as  to  conceive  or  form 
an  idea  of  any  thing  specifically  different  from 
ideas  and  impressions.  Let  us  fix  our  attention  out 
of  ourselves  as  much  as  possible :  Let  us  chace  our 
imagination  to  the  heavens,  or  to  the  utmost  Hmits  of 
the  universe;  we  never  really  advance  a^^;^  beyond 
ourselves,  nor  rpn  fwirpivp  any  kind  nf  existcnc^. 
but  those  perceptions,  which  have_appf^ar'd  in  that  nar- 
row  compass.  This  is  the  universe  of  the  imagination, 
nor  have  we  any  idea  but  what  is  there  produc'd. 

The  farthest  we  can  go  towards  a  mnrfpfinn  n^j, 
external  objecta.  when  suppos'd  specifically  different 
from  our  perceptions,  is  to  form  a  relative  idea  of 
them,  without  pretending  to  comprehend  the  related 
objects.  Generally  speaking  we  do  not  suppose  them 
specifically  different ;  but  only  attribute  to  them  differ- 
ent relations,  connexions  and  durations.  But  of  this 
more  fully  hereafter.^ 

H:  *  *  *  *  * 

1  Fart  IV.,  Sect.  2. 


PART   IV. 

OF  THE  SCEPTICAL  AND  OTHER  SYSTEMS 

OF  PHILOSOPHY. 


* 

* 

*            * 

* 

* 

* 

* 

*                        if: 

Section    II. 

^ 

* 

Of  scepticism  zvith  regard  to  the  senses. 

Thus  the  sceptic  still  continues  to  reason  and  be- 
lieve, even  tho'  he  asserts,  that  he  cannot  defend  his 
reason  by  reason;  and  by  the  same  rule  he  must  assent 
to  the  principle  concerning  the  existence  of  body,  tho' 
he  cannot  pretend  by  any  arguments  "of  philosophy  to 
maintain  its  veracity.  Nature  has  not  left  this  to  his 
choice,  and  has  doubtless  esteem'd  it  an  affair  of  too 
great  importance  to  be  trusted  to  our  uncertain  rea- 
sonings and  speculations.  We  may  well  ask.  What 
causes  induce  us  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  body? 
but  'tis  vain  to  ask.  Whether  there  be  body  or  not? 
That  is  a  point,  which  we  must  take  for  granted  in  all 
our  reasonings. 

The  subject,  then,  of  our  present  enquiry  is  con- 
cerning the  causes  which  induce  us  to  believe  in  the 
existence  of  body;  and  my  reasonings  on  this  head  I 
shall  begin  with  a  distinction,  which  at  first  sight  may 
seem  superfluous,  but  which  will  contribute  very  much 
to  the  perfect  understanding  of  what  follows.  We 
ought  to  examine  apart  those  two  questions,  which  are 
commonly  confounded  together,  viz.  Wliy  we  attribute 
a^coNTiNu'p  existence  \o  objects.  evetT when  they  are 


SECT.  II    BOOK  I.  OF  THE   UNDERSTANDING    233 

not  present  to  the  senses;  and  why  we  suppose  them 

to  have  an  existence  distinct  from  the  mind  and  per- 
ception. Under  this  last  head  I  comprehend  their 
situation  as  well  as  relations,  their  external  position 
as  well  as  the  independence  of  their  existence  and 
operation.  These  two  questions  concerning  the  con- 
tinued and  distinct  existence  of  body  are  intimately 
connected  together.  For  if  the  object_s  of^our  senses 
continue  to  exist,  even .  when  they  are  not  perceiv'd, 
Jh pjr  pyi sten re,  Jg_(^f„_<yjir^f  j'.^.d^pPii d ^nt  nf  and  dis- 
tinct from  the  perception ;  and  vice  versa,  if  their 
existence  be  independent  of  the  perception  and  dis- 
tinct from  it,  they  must  continue  to  exist,  even  tho' 
they  be  not  perceiv'd.  But  tho'  the  decision  of  the  one 
question  decides  the  other ;  yet  that  we  may  the  more 
easily  discover  the  principles  of  human  nature,  from 
whence  the  decision  arises,  we  shall  carry  along  with 
us  this  distinction,  and  shall  consider,  whether  it_  be 
the  senses,  reason,  or  the  ima^^inafion,  tHat  produces 
the  opinion  of  a  continued  or  of  a  d'istinct  existence. 
These  are  the  only  questions,  that  are  intelligible  on 
the  present  subject.  For  as  to  the  notion  of  external 
existence,  when  taken  for  something  specifically  dif- 
ferent from  our  perceptions,^  we  have  already  shewn 
its  absurdity.  <^_ 

To  begin  with  the  senses,  'tis  evident  these  facul- 
ties are  incapable  of  givmg  rise  to  the  notion  of  the 
continu'd  existence  of  their  objects,  after  they  no 
longer  appear  to  the  senses.  For  that  is  a  contradic- 
tion in  terms,  and  supposes  that  the  senses  continue  to 
operate,  even  after  they  have  ceas'd  all  manner  of 
operation.  These  faculties,  therefore,  if  they  have  any 
influence  in  the  present  case,  must  produce  the  opinion 
1  Part  II.,  Sect.  6. 


234         ^  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

•  ^'"Df  a  distinct,  not  of  a  continued  existence ;  and  in  order 
to  that,  must  present  their  impressions  either  as  images 
and  representations,  or  as  these  very  distinct  and 
external  existences. 

That  our  senses  offer  not  their  impressions  as  the 
images  of  somel;hing  distinct,  or  independent,  and  ex- 
ternal,  is  evident;  because  they  convey  to  us  nothing. 
but  a  single  perception,  and  never  give  us  the  least 
intimation  of  any  thing  beyond.  A  single  perception 
can  never  produce  the  idea  of  a  double  existence,  but 
by  some  inference  either  of  the  reason  or  imagination. 
When  the  mind  looks  farther  than  what  immediately 
appears  to  it,  its  conclusions  can  never  be  put  to  the 
account  of  the  senses;  and  it  certainly  looks  farther, 
when  from  a  single  perception  it  infers  a  double  exist- 
ence, and  supposes  the  relations  of  resemblance  and 
causation  betwixt  them. 


But  tho'  we  are  led  after  this  manner,  by  the  nat- 
ural propensity  of  the  imagination,  to  ascribe  a  con- 
tinu'd  existence  to  those  sensible  objects  or  percep- 
tions, which  we  find  to  resemble  each  other  in  their 
interrupted  appearance ;  yet  a  very  little  reflection  and 
philosophy  is  sufficient  to  make  us  perceive  the  fallacy 
of  that  opinion.  I  have  already  observ'd,  that  there 
is  an  intimate  connexion  betwixt  those  two  principles, 
of  a  continu'd  and  of  a  distinct  or  independent  exist- 
ence, and  that  we  no  sooner  establish  the  one  than  the 
other  follows,  as  a  necessary  consequence.  'Tis  the 
opinion  of  a  continu'd  existence,  which  first  takes  place, 
and  without  much  study  or  reflection  draws  the  other 
along  with  it,  wherever  the  mind  follows  its  first  and 


SECT.   II    BOOK   I.   OF   THE    UNDERSTANDING    235 

most  natural  tendency.  But  when  we  compare  experi- 
ments, and  reason  a  little  upon  them,  we  quickly  per- 
ceixe^  that  the,  .doctrine  of  the  independent  existence 
of  our  sensible  perceptions  is  contrary  to  the  plainest 
experience.  This  leads  us  backward  upon  our  foot- 
steps to  perceive  our  error  in  attributing  a  continu'd 
existence  to  our  perceptions,  and  is  the  origin  of  many 
very  curious  opinions,  which  we  shall  here  endeavour 
to  account  for.  -  ' ' 

'Twill  first  be  proper  to  observe  a  few  of  those 
experiments,  which  convince  us,  that  our  perceptions 
are  not  possest  of  any  independent  existence.  When 
we  press  one  eye  with  a  finger,  we  immediately  per- 
ceive all  the  objects  to  become  double,  and  one  half 
of  them  to  be  remov'd  from  their  common  and  natural 
position.  But  as  we  do  not  attribute  a  continu'd  exist- 
ence to  both  these  perceptions,  and  as  they  are  both 
of  the  same  nature,  we  clearly  perceive,  that  all  pux^ 
perce2tions  are  dependent  on  our  organs,  and  the  dis- 
position of  our  nerves  and  animal  spirits.  This  opinion 
is  confirm'd  by  the  seeming  encrease  and  diminution 
of  objects,  according  to  their  distance;  by  the  appar- 
ent alterations  in  their  figure;  by  the  changes  in  their 
colour  and  other  qualities  from  our  sickness  and  dis- 
tempers; and  by  an  infinite  number  of  other  experi- 
ments of  the  same  kind;  from  all  which  we  learn, 
that  our  sensible  perceptions  are  not  possest  of  any 
distinct  or  independent  existence. 

The  natural  consequence  of  this  reasoning  shou'd 
be,  that  our  perceptions  have  no  more  a  continu'd  than 
an  independent  existence;  and  indeed  philosophers 
have  so  far  run  into  this  opinion,  that  they  change 
their  system,  and  distinguish,  (as  we  shall  do  for  the 
future)  betwixt  perceptions  and  objects,  of  which  the 


236         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

former  are  suppos'd  to  be  interrupted,  and  perishing, 
and  different  at  every  different  return ;  the  latter  to  be 
uninterrupted,  and  to  preserve  a  continu'd  existence  and 
identity.  But  however  philosophical  this  new  system 
may  be  esteem'd,  I  assert  that  'tis  only  a  palliative  rem- 
edy, and  that  it  contains  all  the  difficulties  of  the  vulgar 
system,  with  some  others,  that  are  peculiar  to  itself. 
There  are  no  principles  either  of  the  understanding 
or  fancy,  which  lead  us  directly  to  embrace  this  opinion 
of  the  double  existence  of  perceptions  and  objects^  nor 
can  we  arrive  at  it  but  by  passing  thro'  the  common 
hypothesis  of  the  identity  and  continuance  of  our  inter- 
rupted perceptions.  Were  we  not  first  perswaded, 
that  our  perceptions  are  our  only  objects,  and  continue 
to  exist  even  when  they  no  longer  make  their  appear- 
1  aiTce  to  the  senses,  we  shou'd  never  be  led  to  think, 
I  that  our  perceptions  and  objects  are  different,  and  that 
'  our  objects  alone  preserve  a  continu'd  existence.  'The 
latter  hypothesis  has  no  primary  recommendation 
either  to  reason  or  the  imagination,  but  acquires  all 
its  influence  on  the  imagination  from  the  former.' 
This  proposition  contains  two  parts,  which  we  shall 
endeavour  to  prove  as  distinctly  and  clearly,  as  such 
abstruse  subjects  will  permit. 
finA^^^"^  As  to  the  first  part  of  the  proposition,  that  this 
phihsophical  hypothesis  has  no  primary  recommenda- 
tion, either  to  reason  or  the  imagination,  we  may  soon 
satisfy  ourselves  with  regard  to  reason  by  the  follow- 
ing reflections.  The  only  existences,  of  which  we  are 
certain,  are  perceptions,  which  being  immediately  pres- 
ent to  us  by  consciousness,  command  our  strongest 
assent,  and  are  the  first  foundation  of  all  our  conclu- 
sions. The  only  conclusion  we  can  draw  from  the 
existence  of  one  thing  to  that  of  another,  is  by  means 


SECT,  II    BOOK  I.   OF   THE    UNDERSTANDING    237 

of  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect,  which  shews,  that 
there  is  a  connexion  betwixt  them,  and  that  the  exist-^ 
ence  of  one  is  dependent  on  that  of  the  other.  Th^ 
idea  of  this  relation  is  deriv'd  from  past  experience, 
by  which  we  find,  that  two  beings  are  constantly  con- 
Join'd  together,  and  are  always  present  at  once  to  the 
mind.  But  as  no  beings  are  ever  present  to  the  mind 
but  perceptions ;  it  follows  that  we  may  observe  a  con- 
junction or  a  relation  of  cause  and  effect  between  dif- 
ferent perceptions,  but  can  never  observe  it  between 
perceptions  and  objects.  'Tis  impossible,  therefore, 
that  from  the  existence  or  any  of  the  qualities  of  the 
former,  we  can  ever  form  any  conclusion  concerning 
the  existence  of  the  latter,  or  ever  satisfy  our  reason 
in  this  particular. 

'Tis  no  less  certain,  that  this  philosophical  system' 
has  no  primary  recommendation  to  the,  imagination,^ 
and  that  that  faculty  wou'd  never,  of  itself,  and  by  its 
original  tendency,  have  fallen  upon  such  a  principle. 
I  confess  it  will  be  somewhat  difficult  to  prove  this 
to  the  full  satisfaction  of  the  reader ;  because  it  implies 
a  negative,  which  in  many  cases  will  not  admit  of  any 
positive  proof.  If  any  one  wou'd  take  the  pains  to 
examine  this  question,  and  wou'd  invent  a  system,  to 
account  for  the  direct  origin  of  this  opinion  from  the 
imagination,  we  shou'd  be  able,  by  the  examination 
of  that  system,  to  pronounce  a  certain  judgment  in 
the  present  subject.  Let  it  be  taken  for  granted,  that 
our  perceptions  are  broken,  and  interrupted,  and  how- 
ever like,  are  still  different  from  each  other;  and  let 
any  one  upon  this  supposition  shew  why  the  fancy, 
directly  and  immediately,  proceeds  to  the  belief  of 
another  existence,  resembling  these  perceptions  in  their 
nature,  but  yet  continu'd,  and  uninterrupted,  and  iden- 


238         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

tical;  and  after  he  has  done  this  to  my  satisfaction,  I 
promise  to  renounce  my  present  opinion.  Mean  while 
I  cannot  forbear  concluding,  from  the  very  abstracted- 
ness and  difficulty  of  the  first  supposition,  that  'tis 
an  improper  subject  for  the  fancy  to  work  upon.  Who- 
ever wou'd  explain  the  origin  of  the  common  opinion 
concerning  the  continu'd  and  distinct  existence  of 
body,  must  take  the  mind  in  its  common  situation,  and 
must  proceed  upon  the  supposition,  that  our  percep- 
tions are  our  only  objects,  and  continue  to  exist  even 
when  they  are  not  perceiv'd.  Tho'  this  opinion  be 
false,  'tis  the  most  natural  of  any,  and  has  alone  any 
primary  recommendation  to  the  fancy. 

As  to  the  second  part  of  the  proposition,  that  the 
philosophical  system  acquires  all  its  influence  on  the 
imagination  from  the  vulgar  one;  we  may  observe, 
that  this  is  a  natural  and  unavoidable  consequence  of 
the  foregoing  conclusion,  that  it  has  no  primary  recom- 
mendation to  reason  or  the  imagination.  For  as  the 
philosophical  system  is  found  by  experience  to  take 
hold  of  many  minds,  and  in  particular  of  all  those,  who 
reflect  ever  so  little  on  this  subject,  it  must  derive  all 
its  authority  from  the  vulgar  system;  since  it  has  no 
original  authority  of  its  own.  The  manner,  in  which 
these  two  systems,  tho'  directly  contrary,  are  con- 
nected together,  may  be  explain'd,  as  follows. 

The  imagination  naturally  runs  on  in  this  train  of 
thinking.  Our  perceptions  are  our  only  objects:  Re- 
sembling perceptions  are  the  same,  however  broken  or 
uninterrupted  in  their  appearance:  This  appearing  in- 
terruption is  contrary  to  the  identity :  The  interruption 
consequently  extends  not  beyond  the  appearance,  and 
the  perception  or  object  really  continues  to  exist,  even 
when  absent  from  us:  Our  sensible  perceptions  have, 


SECT.  II    BOOK  I.   OF   THE   UNDERSTANDING    239 

therefore,  a  continu'd  and  uninterrupted  existence. 
But  as  a  little  reflection  destroys  this  conclusion,  that 
our  perceptions  have  a  continu'd  existence,  by  shewing 
that  they  have  a  dependent  one,  'twou'd  naturally  be 
expected,  that  we  must  altogether  reject  the  opinion, 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  in  nature  as  a  continu'd 
existence,  which  is  preserv'd  even  when  it  no  longer 
appears  to  the  senses.  The  case,  however,  is  other- 
wise. Philosophers  are  so  far  from  rejecting  the 
opinion  of  a  continu'd  existence  upon  rejecting  that  of 
the  independence  and  continuance  of  our  sensible 
perceptions,  that  tho'  all  sects  agree  in  the  latter  sen- 
timent, the  former,  which  is,  in  a  manner,  its  necessary 
consequence,  has  been  peculiar  to  a  few  extravagant 
sceptics ;  who  after  all  maintain'd  that  opinion  in  words 
only,  and  were  never  able  to  bring  themselves  sin- 
cerely to  believe  it. 

There  is  a  great  difference  betwixt  such  opinions 
as  we  form  after  a  calm  and  profound  reflection,  and 
such  as  we  embrace  by  a  kind  of  instinct  or  natural 
impulse,  on  account  of  their  suitableness  and  conform- 
ity to  the  mind.  If  these  opinions  become  contrary, 
'tis  not  difficult  to  foresee  which  of  them  will  have 
the  advantage.  As  long  as  our  attention  is  bent  upon 
the  subject,  the  philosophical  and  study 'd  principle  may 
prevail ;  but  the  moment  we  relax  our  thoughts,  nature 
will  display  herself,  and  draw  us  back  to  our  former 
opinion.  Nay  she'  has  sometimes  such  an  influence, 
that  she  can  stop  our  progress,  even  in  the  midst  of 
our  most  profound  reflections,  and  keep  us  from  run- 
ning on  with  all  the  consequences  of  any  philosophical 
opinion.  Thus  tho'  we  clearly  perceive  the  depend- 
ence  and  interruptloiToTour  perceptions,  we  stop  short 
in  our  career,  and  never  upon  that  account  reject  the 


240         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

notion  of  an  independent  and  continird  existence. 
That  opinion  has  taken  such  deep  root  in  the  imagina^ 
tion,  that  'tis  impossible  ever  to  eradicate  it,  nor  will 
any  strain'd  metaphysical  conviction  of  the  dependence 
of  our  perceptions  be  sufficient  for  that  purpose. 

But  tho'  our  natural  and  obvious  principles  here 
prevail  above  our  study'd  reflections,  'tis  certain  there 
must  be  some  struggle  and  opposition  in  the  case;  at 
least  so  long  as  these  reflections  retain  any  force  or 
vivacity.  In  order  to  set  ourselves  at  ease  in  this  par- 
ticular, we  contrive  a  new  hypothesis,  which  seems  to 
comprehend  both  these  principles  of  reason  and  imag- 
ination. This  hypothesis  is  the  philosophical  one  of 
the  double  existence  of  perceptions  and  objects;  which 
pleases  our  reason,  in  allowing,  that  our  dependent 
perceptions  are  interrupted  and  different;  and  at  the 
same  time  is  agreeable  to  the  imagination,  in  attribut- 
ing a  continu'd  existence  to  something  else,  which  we 
call  objects.  This  philosophical  system,  therefore,  is 
the  monstrous  offspring  of  two  principles,  which  are 
contrary  to  each  other,  which  are  both  at  once  em- 
brac'd  by  the  mind,  and  which  are  unable  mutually  to 
destroy  each  other.  The  imagination  tells  us,  that  our 
resembling  perceptions  have  a  continu'd  and  uninter- 
rupted existence,  and  are  not  annihilated  by  their_ab- 
sence.  Reflection  tells  us,  that  even  our  resembliflg 
perceptions  are  interrupted  in  their  existence,  _aiid_difr 
ferent  from  each  other.  The  contradiction  betwixt 
these  opinions  we  elude  by  a  new  fiction,  which  is  con- 
formable to  the  hypotheses  both  of  reflection  and 
fancy,  by  ascribing  these  contrary  qualities  to  dift'erent 
existences ;  the  interruption  to  perceptions,  and  the 
continuance  to  objects.  Nature  is  obstinate,  and  will 
not  quit  the  field,  however  strongly  attack'd  by  reason ; 


SECT.  II    BOOK  I.   OF  THE   UNDERSTANDING    241 

and  at  the  same  time  reason  is  so  clear  in  the  point, 
that  there  is  no  possibiHty  of  disguising  her.  Not 
being  able  to  reconcile  these  two  enemies,  we  endeavour 
to  set  ourselves  at  ease  as  much  as  possible,  by  succes- 
sively granting  to  each  whatever  it  demands,  and  by 
feigning  a  double  existence,  where  each  may  find  some- 
thing, that  has  all  the  conditions  it  desires.  Were  we 
fully  convinc'd,  that  our  resembling  perceptions  are 
continu'd,  and  identical,  and  independent,  we  shou'd 
never  run  into  this  opinion  of  a  double  existence ;  since 
we  should  find  satisfaction  in  our  first  supposition,  and 
wou'd  not  look  beyond.  Again,  were  we  fully  con- 
vinc'd, that  our  perceptions  are  dependent,  and  inter- 
rupted, and  dififerent,  we  shou'd  be  as  little  inclin'd  to 
embrace  the  opinion  of  a  double  existence;  since  in 
that  case  we  shou'd  clearly  perceive  the  error  of  our 
first  supposition  of  a  continu'd  existence,  and  wou'd 
never  regard  it  any  farther.  Tis  therefore  from  the 
intermediate  situation  of  the  mind,  that  this  opinion 
arises,  and  from  such  an  adherence  to  these  two  con- 
trary principles,  as  makes  us  seek  some  pretext  to 
justify  our  receiving  both;  which  happily  at  last  is 
found  in  the  system  of  a  double  existence. 

Another  advantage  of  this  philosophical  system  is 
its  similarity  to  the  vulgar  one;  by  which  means  we 
can  humour  our  reason  for  a  moment,  when  it  becomes 
troublesome  and  sollicitous ;  and  yet  upon  its  least  neg- 
ligence or  inattention,  can  easily  return  to  our  vulgar 
and  natural  notions.  Accordingly  we  find,  that  phil- 
osophers neglect  not  this  advantage;  but  immediately 
upon  leaving  their  closets,  mingle  with  the  rest  of  man- 
kind in  those  exploded  opinions,  that  our  perceptions 
are  our  only  objects,  and  continue  identically  and  unin- 


242         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

terruptedly  the  same  in  all  their  interrupted  appear- 
ances. 

There  are  other  particulars  of  this  system,  wherein 
we  may  remark  its  dependence  on  the  fancy,  in  a  very 
conspicuous  manner.  Of  these,  I  shall  observe  the  two 
following.  First,  We  suppose  external  objects  to  re- 
semble internal  perceptions.  I  have  already  shewn, 
that  the  relation  of  cause  and  effect  can  never  aft'ord 
us  any  just  conclusion  from  the  existence  or  quali- 
ties of  our  perceptions  to  the  existence  of  external  con- 
tinu'd  objects :  And  I  shall  farther  add,  that  even  tho' 
they  cou'd  afford  such  a  conclusion,  we  shou'd  never 
have  any  reason  to  infer,  that  our  objects  resemble  our 
perceptions.  That  opinion,  therefore,  is  deriv'd  from 
nothing  but  the  quality  of  the  fancy  above-explain'd_, 
that  it  horrozvs  all  its  ideas  from  some  precedent  perr 
ception.  We  never  can  conceive  any  thing  but  percep- 
tions, and  therefore  must  make  every  thing  resemble 
them. 

Secondly,  As  we  suppose  our  objects  in  general  to 
resemble  our  perceptions,  so  we  take  it  for  granted, 
that  every  particular  object  resembles  that  perception, 
which  it  causes.  The  relation  of  cause  and  effect  de- 
termines us  to  join  the  other  of  resemblance;  and  the 
ideas  of  these  existences  being  already  united  together 
in  the  fancy  by  the  former  relation,  we  naturally  add 
the  latter  to  compleat  the  union.  We  have  a  strong 
propensity  to  compleat  every  union  by  joining  new 
relations  to  those  which  we  have  before  observ'd  be- 
twixt any  ideas,  as  we  shall  have  occasion  to  observe 
presently  .1 

Having  thus  given  an  account  of  all  the  systems 
both  popular  and  philosophical,  with  regard  to  exter- 

1  Sect.  5. 


SECT.  II    BOOK  /.   OF   THE    UNDERSTANDING    243 

nal  existences,  I  cannot  forbear  giving  vent  to  a  certain 
sentiment,  which  arises  upon  reviewing  those  systems. 
I  begun  this  subject  with  premising,  that  we  ought  to 
have  an  imphcit  faith  in  our  senses,  and  that  this  wou'd 
be  the  conclusion,  I  shou'd  draw  from  the  whole  of 
my  reasoning.  But  to  be  ingenuous,  I  feel  myself  at 
present  of  a  quite  contrary  sentiment,  and  am  more 
inclined  to  repose  no  faith  at  all  in  my  senses,  or  rather 
imagination,  than  to  place  in  it  such  an  implicit  confi- 
dence. I  cannot  conceive  how  such  trivial  qualities  of 
the  fancy,  conducted  by  such  false  suppositions,  can 
ever  lead  to  any  solid  and  rational  system.  They  are 
the  coherence  and  constancy  of  our  perceptions,  which 
produce  the  opinion  of  their  continu'd  existence;  tho' 
these  qualities  of  perceptions  have  no  perceivable  con- 
nexion with  such  an  existence.  The  constancy  of  our 
perceptions  has  the  most  considerable  effect,  and  yet 
is  attended  with  the  greatest  difficulties.  'Tis  a  gross 
illusion  to  suppose,  that  our  resembling  perceptions 
are  numerically  the  same;  and  'tis  this  illusion,  which 
leads  us  into  the  opinion,  that  these  perceptions  are 
uninterrupted,  and  are  still  existent,  even  when  they 
are  not  present  to  the  senses.  This  is  the  case  with 
our  popular  system.  And  as  to  our  philosophical  one, 
'tis  liable  to  the  same  difficulties ;  and  is  over-and-above 
loaded  with  this  absurdity,  that  it  at  once  denies  and 
establishes  the  vulgar  supposition.  Philosophers  deny 
our  resembling  perceptions  to  be  identically  the  same, 
and  uninterrupted ;  and  yet  have  so  great  a  propensity 
to  believe  them  such,  that  they  arbitrarily  invent  a  new 
set  of  perceptions,  to  which  they  attribute  these  qual- 
ities. I  say,  a  new  set  of  perceptions:  For  we  may 
well  suppose  in  general,  but  'tis  impossible  for  us  dis- 
tinctly to  conceive,  objects  to  be  in  their  nature  any 


244         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

thing  but  exactly  the  same  with  perceptions.  What, 
then  can  we  look  for  from  this  confusion  of  ground- 
less and  extraordinary  opinions  but  error  and  false- 
hood? And  how  can  we  justify  to  ourselves  any  belief 
we  repose  in  them? 

This  sceptical  doubt,  both  jwith  respect  to  reason 
and  the  senses,  is  a  malady,  which  can  never  be  radi-. 
cally  cur'd,  but  must  return  upon  us  every  moment, 
liowever  we  rnay  chace  it  away,  and  sometimes  may 
seem  entirely  free  from  it.  'Tis  impossible  upon  any 
system  to  defend  either  our  understanding  or  senses; 
and  we  but  expose  them  farther  when  we  endeavour 
to  justify  them  in  that  manner.  As  the  sceptical  doubt 
arises  naturally  from  a  profound  and  intense  reflection 
on  those  subjects,  it  always  encreases,  the  farther  we 
carry  our  reflections,  whether  in  opposition  or  con- 
formity to  it.  Carelessness  and  in-attention  alone  can 
aflford  us  any  remedy.  For  this  reason  I  rely  entirely 
upon  them;  and  take  it  for  granted,  whatever  may  be 
the  reader's  opinion  at  this  present  moment,  that  an 
hour  hence  he  will  be  persuaded  there  is  both  an 
external  and  internal  world ;  and  going  upon  that  sup- 
position, I  intend  to  examine  some  general  systems 
both  ancient  and  modern,  which  have  been  propos'd 
of  both,  before  I  proceed  to  a  more  particular  enquiry 
concerning  our  impressions.  This  will  not,  perhaps,  in 
the  end  be  found  foreign  to  our  present  purpose. 


Section  VI. 
Of  personal  identity. 

There  are  some  philosophers,  who  imagine  we  are 
every  moment  intimately  conscious  of  what  we  call  our 
Self;  that  we  feel  its  existence  and  its  continuance 
in  existence;  and  are  certain,  beyond  the  evidence  of 
demonstration,  both  of  its  perfect  identity  and  sim- 
plicity. The  strongest  sensation,  the  most  violent  pas- 
sion, say  they,  instead  of  distracting  us  from  this  view, 
only  fix  it  the  more  intensely,  and  make  us  consider 
their  influence  on  self  either  by  their  pain  or  pleasure. 
To  attempt  a  farther  proof  of  this  were  to  weaken  its 
evidence ;  since  no  proof  can  be  deriv'd  from  any  fact, 
of  which  we  are  so  intimately  conscious;  nor  is  there 
any  thing,  of  which  we  can  be  certain,  if  we  doubt 
of  this. 

Unluckily  all  these  positive  assertions  are  contrary 
to  that  very  experience,  which  is  pleaded  for  them,  nor 
have  we  any  idea  of  self,  after  the  manner  it  is  here 
explain'd.  For  from  what  impression  cou'd  this  idea 
be  deriv'd?  This  question  'tis  impossible  to  answer 
without  a  manifest  contradiction  and  absurdity;  and 
yet  'tis  a  question,  which  must  necessarily  be  answer 'd, 
if  we  wou'd  have  the  idea  of  self  pass  for  clear  and 
intelligible.  It  must  be  ,<;nmp  nr|g  iinpression,  that  gives 
rjse  to  every  r^al  idff^  ,"Rn^  self  or  person  is  not  any 
one  impression,  but  that  to  which  our  several  impres- 
sions and  ideas  are  suppos'd  to  have  a  reference.  If 
any  impression  gives  rise  to  the  idea  of  self,  that  im- 


246         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

/pression  must  continue  invariably  the  same,  thro'  the 
whole  course  of  our  lives;  since  self  is  suppos'd  to 
exist  after  that  manner.  But  there  is  no  impression^ 
•constant  and  invariable.  Pain  and  pleasure,  grief  and 
joy,  passions  and  sensations  succeed  each  other,  and 
never  all  exist  at  the  same  time.  It  cannot,  therefore, 
be  from  any  of  these  impressions,  or  from  any  other, 
that  the  idea  .of  self  is  derived;  and  consequently  there 
_is_no  such  idea./ 

But  farther,  what  must  become  of  all  our  particu- 
lar perceptions  upon  this  hypothesis?  All  these  are 
different,  and  distinguishable,  and  separable  from  each 
other,  and  may  be  separately  consider'd,  and  may  exist 
separately,  and  have  no  need  of  any  thing  to  support 
their  existence.  After  what  manner,  therefore,  do 
they  belong  to  self;  and  how  are  they  connected  with 
it?  For  my  part,  when  I  enter  most  intimately  into 
what  I  call  myself,  I  always  stumble  on  some  particu- 
lar perception  or  other,  of  heat  or  cold,  light  or  shade, 
love  or  hatred,  pain  or  pleasure.  I  never  can  catch 
myself  at  any  time  without  a  perception,  and  never 
can  observe  any  thing  but  the  perception.  When  my 
perceptions  are  remov'd  for  any  time,  as  by  sound 
sleep ;  so  long  am  I  insensible  of  mys£l^^,^and  may  truly 
be  said  not  to  exist.  And  were  all  my  p^ceptions. 
remov'd  by  death,  and  cou'd  I  neither  think,  nor  feel, 
nor  see,  nor  love,  nor  hate  after  the  dissolution  of  my 
body,  I  shou'd  be  entirely  annihilated,  nor  do  I  con- 
ceive what  is  farther  requisite  to  make  me  a  perfect 
non-entity.  If  any  one  upon  serious  and  unprejudic'd 
reflexion,  thinks  he  has  a  different  notion  of  JiimsdU- 
I  must  confess  I  can  reason  no  longer  with  him.  All 
I  can  allow  him  is,  that  he  may  be  in  the  right  as  well 
as  I,  and  that  we  are  essentially  different  in  this  par- 


SECT.   VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE   UNDERSTANDING    247 

ticular.  He  may,  perhaps,  perceive  something  simple 
and  continu'd,  which  he  calls  himself;  tho'  I  am  cer- 
tain there  is  no  such  principle  in  me. 

But  setting  aside  some  metaphysicians  of  this  kind, 
I  may  venture  to  affirm  of  the  rest  of  mankind,  that' 
they  are  nothing  but  a  bundle  or  collection  of  different 
perceptions,  which  succeed  each  other  with  an  incon- 
ceivable rapidity,  and  are  in  a  perpetual  flux  and  move- 
ment. Our  eyes  cannot  turn  in  their  sockets  without 
varying  our  perceptions.  Our  thought  is  still  more 
variable  than  our  sight;  and  all  our  other  senses  and 
faculties  contribute  to  this  change;  nor  is  there  any 
single  power  of  the  soul,  which  remains  unalterably 
the  same,  perhaps  for  one  moment.  The  mind  is  a 
kind  of  theatre,  where  several  perceptions  successively 
make  their  appearance;  pass,  re-pass,  glide  away,  and 
mingle  in  an  infinite  variety  of  postures  and  situations. 
There  is  properly  no_j5'im^iid^3;  in  it  ^t  one  time,  nor 
identity  in  different;  whatever  natural  propension  we 
may  have  to  imagine  that  simplicity  and  identity. 
The  comparison  of  the  theatre  must  not  mislead  us. 
They  are  the  successive  perceptions  only,  that  con- 
stitute the  mind;  nor  have  we  the  most  distant  notion 
of  the  place,  where  these  scenes  are  represented,  or  of 
the  materials,  of  which  it  is  compos'd. 

What  then  gives  us  so  great  a  propension  to  ascribe 
an  identity  to  these  successive  perceptions,  and  to  sup- 
pose ourselves  possest  of  an  invariable  and  uninter- 
rupted existence  thro'  the  whole  course  of  our  lives? 
In  order  to  answer  this  question,  we  must  distinguish 
betwixt  personal  identity,  as  it  regards  our  thought  or 
imagination,  and  as  it  regards  our  passions  or  the  con- 
cern we  take  in  ourselves.  The  first  is  our  present 
subject;  and  to  explain  it  perfectly  we  must  take  the 


te 


248         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

matter  pretty  deep,  and  account  for  that  identity,  which 
we  attribute  to  plants  and  animals ;  there  being  a  great 
analogy  betwixt  it,  and  the  identity  of  a  self  or  person. 
We  have  a  distinct  idea  of  an^bi^ct,  that  remains 
invariable  and  uninterrupted  thro'  a  supposed  varia- 
tion of  time;  and  this  idea  we  call  that  of  identity  oj- 
samen£ss^  We  have  also  a  distinct  idea  of  several 
different  objects  existing  in  succession,  and  connected 
together  by  a  close  relation;  and  this  to  an  accurate 
view  affords  as  perfect  a  notion  of  diversity,  as  if  there 
was  no  manner  of  relation  among  the  objects.  But 
tho'  these  two  ideas  of  identity,  and  a  succession  of 
related  objects  be  in  themselves  perfectly  distinct,  and 
even  contrary,  yet  'tis  certain,  that  in  our  common  way 
of  thinking  they  are  generally  confounded  with  each 
other.  That  action  of  the  imagination,  by  which  we 
consider  the  uninterrupted  and  mvariable  object,  and 
that  by  which  we  reflect  on  the  succession  of  related 
objects,  are  almost  the  same  to  the  feeling,  nor  is  there 
much  more  effort  of  thought  requir'd  in  the  latter  case 
than  in  the  former.  The  relation  facilitates  the  tran- 
sition of  the  mind  from  one  object  to  another,  and 
renders  its  passage  as  smooth  as  if  it  contemplated 
one  continu'd  object.  This  resemblance  is  the  cause 
of  the  confusion  and  mistake,  and  makes  us  substitute 
the  notion  of  identity,  instead  of  that  of  related  objects. 
However  at  one  instant  we  may  consider  the  related 
succession  as  variable  or  interrupted,  we  are  sure  the 
next  to  ascribe  to  it  a  perfect  identity,  and  regard  it 
as  invariable  and  uninterrupted.  Our  propensity  to 
this  mistake  is  so  great  from  the  resemblance  above- 
mention'd,  that  we  fall  into  it  before  we  are  aware; 
and  tho'  we  incessantly  correct  ourselves  by  reflexion, 
and  return  to  a  more  accurate  method  of  thinking, 


SECT.  VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    249 

yet  we  cannot  long  sustain  our  philosophy,  or  take  off 
this  biass  from  the  imagination.  Our  last  resource 
is  to  yield  to  it,  and  boldly  assert  that  these  different 
related  objects  are  in  effect  the  same,  however  inter- 
rupted and  variable.  In  order  to  justify  to  ourselves 
this  absurdity,  we  often  feign  some  new  and  unintel- 
ligible principle,  that  connects  the  objects  together, 
and  prevents  their  interruption  or  variation.  Thus 
we  feign  the  continu'd  existence  of  the  perceptions  of 
our  senses,  to  remove  the  interruption;  and  run  into 
the  notion  of  a  soul,  and  self,  and  substance,  to  dis- 
guise the  variation.  But  we  may  farther  observe,  that 
where  we  do  not  give  rise  to  such  a  fiction,  our  pro- 
pension  to  confound  identity  with  relation  is  so  great, 
that  we  are  apt  to  imagine^  something  unknown  and 
mysterious,  connecting  the  parts,  beside  their  relation ; 
and  this  I  take  to  be  the  case  with  regard  to  the  iden- 
tity we  ascribe  to  plants  and  vegetables.  And  even 
when  this  does  not  take  place,  we  still  feel  a  propen- 
sity to  confound  these  ideas,  tho'  we  are  not  able  fully 
to  satisfy  ourselves  in  that  particular,  nor  find  any 
thing  invariable  and  uninterrupted  to  justify  our  no- 
tion of  identity. 

Thus  the  controversy  concerning  identity  is  not 
merely  a  dispute  of  words.  For  when  we  attribute 
identity,  in  an  improper  sense,  to  variable  or  inter- 
rupted objects,  our  mistake  is  not  confin'd  to  the  ex- 
pression, but  is  commonly  attended  with  a  fiction, 
either  of  something  invariable  and  uninterrupted,  or 

1  If  the  reader  is  desirous  to  see  how  a  great  genius  may  be 
influenc'd  by  these  seemingly  trivial  principles  of  the  imagination, 
as  well  as  the  mere  vulgar,  let  him  read  my  Lord  Shaftsbury's 
reasonings  concerning  the  uniting  principle  of  the  universe,  and 
the  identity  of  plants  and  animals.  See  his  Moralists:  or,  Philo- 
sophical rhapsody* 


250         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

of  something  mysterious  and  inexplicable,  or  at  least 
with  a  propensity  to  such  fictions.  What  will  suffice 
to  prove  this  hypothesis  to  the  satisfaction  of  every 
fair  enquirer,  is  to  shew  from  daily  experience  and 
observation,  that  the  objects,  which  are  variable  or 
interrupted,  and  yet  are  suppos'd  to  continue^  the^ 
same,  are  such  only  as  consist  of  a  succession  of  parts, 
connected  together  by  resemblance,  contiguity,  or 
causation.  For  as  such  a  succession  answers  evidently 
to  our  notion  of  diversity,  it  can  only  be  by  mistake 
we  ascribe  to  it  an  identity;  and  as  the  relation  of 
parts,  which  leads  us  into  this  mistake,  is  really  noth- 
ing but  a  quality,  which  produces  an  association  of 
ideas,  and  an  easy  transition  of  the  imagination  from 
one  to  another,  it  can  only  be  from  the  resemblance, 
which  this  act  of  the  mind  bears  to  that,  by  which  we 
contemplate  one  continu'd  object,  that  the  error  arises. 
Our  chief  business,  then,  must  be  to  prove,  that  all 
objects,  to  which  we  ascribe  identity,  without  observ- 
ing their  invariableness  and  uninterruptedness,  are 
such  as  consist  of  a  succession  nf  related  objects. 

In  order  to  this,  suppose  any  mass  of  matter,  of 
which  the  parts  are  contiguous  and  connected,  to  be 
plac'd  before  us ;  'tis  plain  we  must  attribute  a  perfect 
identity  to  this  mass,  provided  all  the  parts  continue 
uninterruptedly  and  invariably  the  same,  whatever  mo- 
tion or  change  of  place  we  may  observe  either  in  the 
whole  or  in  any  of  the  parts.  But  supposing  some 
very  small  or  inconsiderable  part  to  be  added  to  the 
mass,  or  substracted  from  it;  tho'  this  absolutely 
destroys  the  identity  of  the  whole,  strictly  speaking; 
yet  as  we  seldom  think  so  accurately,  we  scruple  not 
to  pronounce  a  mass  of  matter  the  same,  where  we  find 
so  trivial  an  alteration.    The  passage  of  the  thought 


SECT.  VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE   UNDERSTANDING    251 

from  the  object  before  the  change  to  the  object  after 
it,  is  so  smooth  and  easy,  that  we  scarce  perceive  the 
transition,  and  are  apt  to  imagine,  that  'tis  nothing 
but  a  continu'd  survey  of  the  same  object. 

There  is  a  very  remarkable  circumstance,  that  at- 
tends this  experiment;  which  is,  that  tho'  the  change 
of  any  considerable  part  in  a  mass  of  matter  destroys 
the  identity  of  the  whole,  yet  we  must  measure  the 
greatness  of  the  part,  not  absolutely,  but  by  itsj^r^z^ 
portism-JjoJtho.  whole.  The  addition  or  diminution  of 
a  mountain  wou'd  not  be  sufficient  to  produce  a  di- 
versity in  a  planet ;  tho'  the  change  of  a  very  few  inches 
wou'd  be  able  to  destroy  the  identity  of  some  bodies. 
'Twill  be  impossible  to  account  for  this,  but  by  reflect- 1 
ing  that  objects  operate  upon  the  mind,  and  break  or 
interrupt  the  continuity  of  its  actions  not  according 
to  their  real  greatness,  but  according  to  their  pro- 
I)ortion  to  each  other:  And  therefore,  since  this  inter- 
ruption makes  an  object  cease  to  appear  the  same,  it 
must  be  the  uninterrupted  progress  of  the  thought, 
which  constitutes  the  imperfect  identity. 

This  may  be  confirm'd  by  another  phaenomenon. 
A  change  in  any  considerable  part  of  a  body  destroys 
its  identity ;  but  'tis  remarkable,  that  where  the  change 
is  produc'd  gradually  and  insensibly  we  are  less  apt 
to  ascribe  to  it  the^ame  eltect.^  The  reason  can  plainly 
be  no  other,  than  that  thej3iio4,  in  following  the  suc- 
cessive changes  of  the  body,  feels  an  easy  passage 
from  the  surveying  its  condition  in  one  moment  to  the 
viewing  of  it  in  another,  and  at  nn particular  time 
perceives  any  interruption  in  its  actions.  From  which 
cojitinu'd  percegtion,^  ascribes  a  continu'd  existence^ 
and  identity  to  the  obj( 


252         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

But  whatever  precaution  we  may  use  in  introduc- 
ing the  changes  gradually,  and  making  them  propor- 
tionable to  the  whole,  'tis  certain,  that  where  the 
changes  are  at  last  observ'd  to  become  considerable, 
we  make  a  scruple  of  ascribing  identity  to  such  differ- 
ent objects.  There  is,  however,  another  artifice,  by 
which  we  may  induce  the  imagination  to  advance  a 
step  farther;  and  that  is,  by  producing  a  reference  of 
the  parts  to  each  other,  and  a  combination  to  some 
icnmrngn  (>nij,  or  purpose.  A  ship,  of  which  a  consider- 
able  part  has  been  chang'd  by  frequent  reparations, 
is  still  consider'd  as  the  same;  nor  does  the  difference 
of  the  materials  hinder  us  from  ascribing  an  identity 
to  it.  The  common  end,  in  which  the  parts  conspire, 
is  the  same  under  all  their  variations,  and  affords  an 
easy  transition  of  the  imagination  from  one  situation 
of  the  body  to  another. 

But  this  is  still  more  remarkable,  when  we  add  a 
sympathy  of  parts  to  their  common  end,  and  suppose 
that  they  bear  to  each  other,  the  reciprocal  relation 
of  cause  and  effect  in  all  their  actions  and  operations. 
This  is  the  case  with  all  animals  and  vegetables ;  where 
not  only  the  several  parts  have  a  reference  to  some 
general  purpose,  but  also  a  mutual  dependence  on,  and 
connexion  with  each  other.  The  effect  of  so  strong 
a  relation  is,  that  tho'  every  one  must  allow,  that  in  a 
very  few  years  both  vegetables  and  animals  endure  a 
total  change,  yet  we  still  attribute  identity  to  them, 
while  their  form,  size,  and  substance  are  entirely  al- 
ter'd.  An  oak,  that  grows  from  a  small  plant  to  a 
large  tree,  is  still  the  same  oak;  tho'  there  be  not  one 
particle  of  matter,  or  figure  of  its  parts  the  same.  An 
infant  becomes  a  man,  and  is  sometimes  fat,  sometimes 
lean,  without  any  change  in  his  identity. 


SECT.  VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    253 

We  may  also  consider  the  two  following  phae- 
nomena,  which  are  remarkable  in  their  kind.  The  first 
is,  that  tho'  we  commonly  be  able  to  distinguish  pretty 
exactly  betwixt  numerical  and  specific  identity,  yet  it 
sometimes  happens,  that  we  confound  them,  and  in  our 
thinking  and  reasoning  employ  the  one  for  the  other. 
Thus  a  man,  who  hears  a  noise,  that  is  frequently 
interrupted  and  renew'd,  says,  it  is  still  the  same  noise ; 
tho'  'tis  evident  the  sounds  have  only  a  specific  iden- 
tity or  resemblance,  and  there  is  nothing  numerically 
the  same,  but  the  cause,  which  produc'd  them.  In 
like  manner  it  may  be  said  without  breach  of  the  pro- 
priety of  language,  that  such  a  church,  which  was 
formerly  of  brick,  fell  to  ruin,  and  that  the  parish 
rebuilt  the  same  church  of  free-stone,  and  according 
to  modern  architecture.  Here  neither  the  form  nor 
materials  are  the  same,  nor  is  there  any  thing  common 
to  the  two  objects,  but  their  relation  to  the  inhabitants 
of  the  parish;  and  yet  this  alone  is  sufficient  to  make 
us  denominate  them  the  same.  But  we  must  observe, 
that  in  these  cases  the  first  object  is  in  a  manner  anni- 
hilated before  the  second  comes  into  existence;  by 
which  means,  we  are  never  presented  in  any  one  point 
of  time  with  the  idea  of  difference  and  multiplicity; 
and  for  that  reason  are  less  scrupulous  in  calling  them 
the  same. 

Secondly,  We  may  remark,  that  tho'  in  a  succes- 
sion of  related  objects,  it  be  in  a  manner  requisite, 
that  the  change  of  parts  be  not  sudden  nor  entire,  in 
order  to  preserve  the  identity,  yet  where  the  objects 
are  in  their  nature  changeable  and  inconstant,  we 
admit  of  a  more  sudden  transition,  than  wou'd  other- 
wise be  consistent  with  that  relation.  Thus  as  the 
nature  of  a  river  consists  in  the  motion  and  change  of 


254         ^  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

parts;  tho'  in  less  than  four  and  twenty  hours  these 
be  totally  alter'd ;  this  hinders  not  the  river  from  con- 
tinuing the  same  during  several  ages.  What  is  natu- 
ral and  essential  to  any  thing  is,  in  a  manner,  ex- 
pected; and  what  is  expected  makes  less  impression, 
and  appears  of  less  moment,  than  what  is  unusual  and 
extraordinary.  A  considerable  change  of  the  former 
kind  seems  really  less  to  the  imagination,  than  the 
most  trivial  alteration  of  the  latter;  and  by  breaking 
less  the  continuity  of  the  thought,  has  less  influence 
in  destroying  the  identity. 

We  now  proceed  to  explain  the  nature  of  personal 
identity,  which  has  become  so  great  a  question  in 
philosophy,  especially  of  late  years  in  England,  where 
all  the  abstruser  sciences  are  study'd  with  a  peculiar 
ardour  and  application.  And  here  'tis  evident,  the 
same  method  of  reasoning  must  be  continu'd,  which 
has  so  successfully  explain'd  the  identity  of  plants, 
and  animals,  and  ships,  and  houses,  and  of  all  the  com- 
pounded and  changeable  productions  either  of  art  or 
nature.  The  identity,  which  we  ascribe^  to^he^minj 
of  man,  is  onlv  a^ctitious  one,  and  of  a  like  kind 
with  that  which  we  ascribe  to  vegetables  and  apimal 
bodies.  It  cannot,  therefore,  have  a  different  origin, 
but  must  proceed  from  a  like  operation  of  the  imag- 
ination upon  like  objects. 

But  lest  this  argument  shou'd  not  convince  the 
reader;  tho'  in  my  opinion  perfectly  decisive;  let  him 
weigh  the  following  reasoning,  which  is  still  closer 
and  more  immediate.  'Tis  evident,  that  the  identity, 
which  we  attribute  to  the  human  mind,  however  per- 
fect we  may  imagine  it  to  be,  is  not  able  to  run  the 
several  different  perceptions  into  one,  and  make  them 
lose   their   characters   of   distinction   and   difference, 


SECT.  VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    255 

which  are  essential  to  them.  Tis  still  true,  that  every, 
distinct  perception,  which  enters  into  the  composition 
of  the  mind,  is  a  distinct  existence,  and  is  different, 
and  distinguishableTand" separable"  from  j^very  other 
perception,  either  contemporary  or  successive.  But, 
as,  notwithstanding  this  distinction  and  separability, 
we  suppose  the  whole  train  of  perceptions  to  be  united 
by  identity,  a  question  naturally  arises  concerning  this 
relation  of  identity ;  whether  it  be  something  that  really 
binds  our  several  perceptions  together,  or  only  associates 
their  ideas  in  the  imagination.  That  is,  in  other  words, 
whettipr  in  pronouncing  concerning  the  identity  of  a 
person,  we  observe  some  real  bond  among  his,  percep-^ 
,tions#»or  only  feel  one  among  the  ideas  we  form  of 
them.  This  question  we  might  "Easily  decide,  "li  we 
wou'd  recollect  what  has  been  already  prov'd  at  large, 
that  the  understanding  never  observes  any  real  con- 
nexion among  objects,  and  that  even  the  union  of 
cause  and  effect,  when  strictly  examin'd,  resolves  itself 
into  a  customary  association  of  ideas.  For  from  thence 
it  evidently  follows,  that  identity  is  nothing_really. hfic^ 
longing  to  these  different  perceptions,  and  uniting^ 
fhem  together ;  but  is  merely  aquality,  which  we  attri-  > 
bute  to  them,  because  of  the  union  oT^ their  ideas  in  the  ^ 
imagination,  when  we  reflect  upon  them.  Now  the 
only  qualities,  which  can  give  ideas  an  union  in  the 
imagination,  are  these  three  relations  above-mentibn^dT 
These  are  the  uniting  principles  in  the  ideal  world, 
and  without  them  every  distinct  object  is  separable 
by  the  mind,  and  may  be  separately  consider'd,  and 
appears  not  to  have  any  more  connexion  with  any 
other  object,  than  if  disjoined  by  the  greatest  differ- 
ence and  remoteness.  'Tis  therefore,  on  some  of  these 
three  relations  of  resemblance,  contiguity  and  caus- 


2S6         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

ation,  that  identity  depends;  and  as  the  very  essence 
of  these  relations  consists  in  their  producing  an  easy 
transition  of  ideas;  it  follows,  that  our  notions  of  per- 
sonal  identity,  proceed  entirely  from  the  smooth  and 
uninterrupted  progress  of  the  thought  along  a  train  of 
connected  ideas.,^  according  to  the^  principles  above- 
explained. 

The  only  question,  therefore,  which  remains,  is,  by 
what  relations  this  uninterrupted  progress  of  our 
thought^is^produc'd,  when  we  consider  the  successive 
existence  of  a  mind  or  thinking  person.  And  here'  tis 
evident  we  must  confine  ourselves  to  resembl^Cfie  3.nd 
causation .  and  must  drop  contiguity,  which  has  little 
or  no  influence  in  the  present  case. 

To  begin  with  resemblance;  suppose  we  cou'd  see 
clearly  into  the  breast  of  another,  and  observe  that 
succession  of  perceptions,  which  constitutes  his  mind 
or  thinking  principle,  and  suppose  that  he  always  pre- 
serves the  memory  of  a  considerable  part  of  past  per- 
ceptions; 'tis  evident  that  nothing  cou'd  more  con- 
tribute to  the  bestowing  a  relation  on  this  succession 
amidst  all  its  variations.  For  what  is  the  memory  but 
a  faculty,  by  whjfh  we  raise  up  the  images  of  past 
perceptions?  And  as  an  image  necessarily  resembles 
its  object,  must  not  the  frequent  placing  of  these 
resembling  perceptions  in  the  chain  of  thought,  con- 
vey the  imagination  more  easily  from  one  link  to 
another,  and  make  the  whole  seem  like  the  continu- 
ance of  one  object?  In  this  particular,  then,  the  mem- 
ory  not  only  rJiscnvers  th^  identity,  but  also  contributes 
to  its  production,  by  producing  the  relation  of  resem- 
blance  among  the  perceptions.  The  case  is  the  same 
whether  we  consider  ourselves  or  others. 


SECT.  VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    257 

As  to  causation;  we  may  observe,  that  the  true 
idea  of  the  human  mind,  is  to  consider  it  as  a  system 
of  different  perceptions  or  differentexisten^s.  which 
are  link'd  together  by  the  relation  of  cause  andeffect, 
and  mutually  produce,  destroy,  influence,  and  modify 
each  other.  Our  impressions  give  rise  to  their  cor- 
respondent ideas;  and  these  ideas  in  their  turn  pro- 
duce other  impressions.  One  thought  chaces  another, 
and  draws  after  it  a  third,  by  which  it  is  expell'd  in 
its  turn.  In  this  respect,  I  cannot  compare  the  soul 
more  properly  to  any  thing  than  to  a  republic  or  com- 
monwealth, in  which  the  several  members  are  united 
by  the  reciprocal  ties  of  government  and  subordina- 
tion, and  give  rise  to  other  persons,  who  propagate 
the  same  republic  in  the  incessant  changes  of  its  parts. 
And  as  the  same  individual  republic  may  not  only 
change  its  members,  but  also  its  laws  and  constitu- 
tions; in  like  manner  the  same  person  may  vary  his 
character  and  disposition,  as  well  as  his  impressions 
and  ideas,  without  losing  his  identity.  Whatever 
changes  he  endures,  hisseyeral— paj^s  are  still  co^ 
nected  by  the  relation  orcausation.  And  in  this  view 
"our  identity  with  regard  to  the  passions  serves  to  cor- 
roborate that  with  regard  to  the  imagination,  by  the 
making  our  distant  perceptions  influence  each  other, 
and  by  giving  us  a  present  concern  for  our  past  or 
future  pains  or  pleasures. 

As  memory  alone  acquaints  us  with  the  continu- 
ance and  extent  of  this  succession  of  perceptions,  'tis 
to  be  consider'd,  upon  that  account  chiefly,  as  the 
source  of  ^^e£sonalJil£ilUty.  Had  we  no  memory,  we 
never  shou'd  have  any  notion  of  causation,  nor  con- 
sequently of  that  chain  of  causes  and  effects,  which 
constitute  our  self  or  person.  But  having  once  acquir'd 


258         A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  NATURE    PART  IV 

this  notion  of  causation  from  the  memory,  we  can 
extend  the  same  chain  of  causes,  and  consequently  the 
identity  of  our  persons  beyond  our  memory,  and  can 
comprehend  times,  and  circurhstances,  and  actions, 
which  we  have  entirely  forgot,  but  suppose  in  general 
to  have  existed.  For  how  few  of  our  past  actions 
are  there,  of  which  we  have  any  memory?  Who  can 
tell  me,  for  instance,  what  were  his  thoughts  and 
actions  on  the  first  of  January  171 5,  the  nth  of  March 
1719,  and  the  3d  of  August  1733?  Or  will  he  affirm 
because  he  has  entirely  forgot  the  incidents  of  these 
days,  that  the  present  self  is  not  the  same  person  with 
the  self  of  that  time;  and  by  that  means  overturn  all 
the  most  establish'd  notions  of  personal  identity?  In 
this  view,  therefore,  memQry  does  not  so  much  produce^ 
as  discover  personal  identity,  by  shewing  us  the  rela-_ 
tion  ot  cause  and  effect  among  our  different  percep- 
tions. 'Twill  be  incumbent  on  those,  who  affirm  that 
memory  produces  entirely  our  personal  identity,  to 
give  a  reason  why  we  can  thus  extend  our  identity 
beyond  our  memory. 

The  whole  of  this  doctrine  leads  us  to  a  conclu- 
sion, which  is  of  great  importance  in  the  present  affair, 
viz.  that  all  the  nice  and  subtile  questions  concerning 
personal  identity  can  never  possibly  be  decided,  and 
are  to  be  regarded  rather  as  grammatical  than  as  phil- 
osophical difficulties.  Identity  ^depends  on  ^thfi-idar 
tion  of  ideas;  and  these  relations  produce  identity,  by 
means  of  that  easy  transition  they  occasion.  But  as 
the  relations,  and  the  easiness  of  the  transition  may 
diminish  by  insensible  degrees,  we  have  no  just  stand- 
ard, by  which  we  can  decide  any  dispute  concerning 
the  time,  when  they  acquire  or  lose  a  title  to  the  name 
of  identity.    All  the  disputes  concerning  the  identity 


SECT.  VI    BOOK  I.  OF  THE  UNDERSTANDING    259 

of  connected  objects  are  merely  verbal,  except  so  far 
as  the  relation  of  parts  gives  rise  to  some  fiction  or 
imaginary  principle  of  union,  as  we  have  already 
observed. 

What  I  have  said  concerning  the  first  origin  and 
uncertainty  of  our  notion  of  identity,  as  apply'd  to  the 
human  mind,  may  be  extended  with  little  or  no  varia- 
tion to  that  of  .^plidty.  An  object,  whose  different 
co-existent  parts  are  bound,  together  by  a  close  rela- 
tion, operates  upon  the  imagination  after  much  the 
same  manner  as  one  perfectly  simple  and  indivisible, 
and  requires  not  a  much  greater  stretch  of  thought  in 
order  to  its  conception.  From  this  similarity  of  opera- 
tion we  attribute  a  simplicity  to  it,  and  feign  a  prin- 
ciple of  union  as  the  support  of  this  simplicity,  and 
the  center  of  all  the  different  parts  and  qualities  of 
the  object. 

Thus  we  have  finish'd  our  examination  of  the  sev- 
eral systems  of  philosophy,  both  of  the  intellectual  and 
moral  world ;  and  in  our  miscellaneous  way  of  reason- 
ing have  been  led  into  several  topics ;  which  will  either 
illustrate  and  confirm  some  preceding  part  of  this  dis- 
course, or  prepare  the  way  for  our  following  opinions. 
'Tis  now  time  to  return  to  a  more  close  examination 
of  our  subject,  and  to  proceed  in  the  accurate  anatomy 
of  human  nature,  having  fully  explained  the  nature 
of  our  judgment  and  understanding. 

^  ^  ^  ^  ^  0 

4(  4:  4c  *  *  4$ 


APPENDIX. 
****** 

I  had  entertain'd  some  hopes,  that  however  de- 
ficient our  theory  of  the  intellectual  world  might  be, 
it  wou'd  be  free  from  those  contradictions,  and  absurd- 
ities, which  seem  to  attend  every  explication,  that  hu- 
man reason  can  give  of  the  material  world.  But  upon 
a  more  strict  review  of  the  section  concerning  personal 
identity,  I  find  myself  involv'd  in  such  a  labyrinth, 
that,  I  must  confess,  I  neither  know  how  to  correct 
my  former  opinions,  nor  how  to  render  them  consis- 
tent. If  this  be  not  a  good  general  reason  for  scep- 
ticism, 'tis  at  least  a  sufficient  one  (if  I  were  not 
already  abundantly  supplied)  for  me  to  entertain  a 
diffidence  and  modesty  in  all  my  decisions.  I  shall 
propose  the  arguments  on  both  sides,  beginning  with 
those  that  induc'd  me  to. deny  the  strict  and  proper 
identity  and  simplicity  of  a  self  or  thinking  being. . 

When  we  talk  of  self  or  substance,  we  must  have 
an  idea  annex'd  to  these  terms,  otherwise  they  are 
altogether  unintelligible.  Every  idea  is  deriv'd  from 
preceding  impressions;  and  we  have  no  impression  of 
self  or  substance,  as  something  simple  and  individual. 
We  have,  therefore,  no  idea  of  them  in  that  sense. 

Whatever  is  distinct,  is  distinguishable;  and  what- 
ever is  distinguishable,  is  separable  by  the  thought  or 
imagination.  All  perceptions  are  distinct.  They  are, 
therefore,  distinguishable,  and  separable,  and  may  be 
conceiv'd  as  separately  existent,  and  may  exist  s^epa- 
rately,  without  any  contradiction  or  absurdity. 


APPENDIX  261 

When  I  view  this  table  and  that  chimney,  nothing 
is  present  to  me  but  particular  perceptions,  which  are 
of  a  Hke  nature  with  all  the  other  perceptions.  This  is 
the  doctrine  of  philosophers.  But  this  table,  which  is 
present  to  me,  and  that  chimney,  may  and  do  exist 
separately.  This  is  the  doctrine  of  the  vulgar,  and 
implies  no  contradiction.  There  is  no  contradiction, 
therefore,  in  extending  the  same  doctrine  to  all  the 
perceptions. 

In  general,  the  following  reasoning  seems  satis- 
factory. All  ideas  are  borrow'd  from  preceding  per- 
ceptions. Our  ideas  of  objects,  therefore,  are  deriv'd 
from  that  source.  Consequently  no  proposition  can 
be  intelligible  or  consistent  with  regard  to  objects, 
'which  is  not  so  with  regard  to  perceptions.  But  'tis 
intelligible  and  consistent  to  say,  that  objects  exist 
distinct  and  independent,  without  any  common  simple 
substance  or  subject  of  inhesion.  This  proposition, 
therefore,  can  never  be  absurd  with  regard  to  percep- 
tions. 

When  I  turn  my  reflexion  on  myself,  I  never  can, 
perceive  this  .y^// jwith^ut  some  one  or  more  percep- / 
tions ;  nor  can  I  ever  perceive  any  thing  but  the  percep-  > 
tions.     'Tis  the  composition  of  these,  therefore,  which  '^ 
forms  the  self. 

We  can  conceive  a  thinking  being  to  have  either 
many  or  few  perceptions.  Suppose  the  mind  to  be 
reduced  even  below  the  life  of  an  oyster.  Suppose  it 
to  have  only  one  perception,  as  of  thirst  or  hunger. 
Consider  it  in  that  situation.  Do  you  conceive  any 
thing  but  merely  that  perception?  Have  you  any  no- 
tion of  self  or  substance?  If  not,  the  addition  of  other 
perceptions  can  never  give  you  that  notion. 


262  A  TREATISE  OF  HUMAN  MATURE 

The  annihilation,  which  some  people  suppose  to 
follow  upon  death,  and  which  entirely  destroys  this 
self,  is  nothing  but  an  extinction  of  all  particular  per- 
ceptions; love  and  hatred,  pain  and  pleasure,  thought 
and  sensation.  These  therefore  must  be  the  same  with 
self;  since  the  one  cannot  survive  the  other. 

Is  self  the  same  with  substance f  If  it  be,  how  can 
that  question  have  place,  concerning  the  subsistence  of 
self,  under  a  change  of  substance  ?  If  they  be  distinct, 
what  is  the  difference  betwixt  them?  For  my  part, 
I  have  a  notion  of  neither,  when  conceiv'd  distinct 
from  particular  perceptions. 

Philosophers  begin  to  be  reconcil'd  to  the  principle, 
that  we  have  no  idea  of  external  substance ,  distinct 
from  the  ideas  of  particular  qualities.  This  must  pave 
the  way  for  a  like  principle  with  regard  to  the  mind, 
that  we  have  no  notion  of  it,  distinct  from  the  par- 
ticular perceptions. 

So  far  I  seem  to  be  attended  with  sufficient  evi- 
dence. But  having  thus  loosen'd  all  our  particular 
perceptions,  when^  I  proceed  to  explain  the  principle 
of  connexion,  which  binds  them  together,  and  makes 
us  attribute  to  them  a  real  simplicity  and  identity;  I 
am  sensible,  that  my  account  is  very  defective,  and 
that  nothing  but  the  seeming  evidence  of  the  precedent 
reasonings  cou'd  have  induc'd  me  to  receive  it.  If 
perceptions  are  distinct  existences,  they  form  a  whole 
only  by  being  connected  together.  But  no  connexions 
among  distinct  existences  are  ever  discoverable  by 
human  understanding.  We  only  feel  a  connexion  or 
determination  of  the  thought,  to  pass  from  one  object 
to  another.  It  follows,  therefore,  that  the  thought_ 
alone  finds  personal  identity,  when  reflecting., on  the. 
train  of  past  perceptions,  that  compose  a  mind,  the 


APPENDIX  263 

ideas  of  them  are  felt  to  be  connected  together,  and 
naturally  introduce  each  other.  However  extraordin- 
ary this  conclusion  may  seem,  it  need  not  surprize  us. 
Most  philosophers  seem  inclin'd  to  think,  that  per- 
sonal identity  arises  from  consciousness;  and  con- 
sciousness is  nothing  but  a  reflected  thought  or  per- 
ception. The  present  philosophy,  therefore,  has  so  far 
a  promising  aspect.  But  all  my  hopes  vanish,  when  I 
come  to  explain  the  principles,  that  unite  our  success- 
ive perceptions  in  our  thought  or  consciousness.  I 
cannot  discover  any  theory,  which  gives  me  satisfac- 
tion on  this  head. 

In  short  jtliere  are  two  principles,  which  J...camiQt^ 
"render  consistent ;  nor  is  it  in  niy_  pow^r_  to^renouace, 
either  of  them,  viz.  that  all  our  distinct  perceptions  ars 
distinct  existences,  and  that  the  mind  never  perceives 
any  real  connexion  among  distinct  existences.  Did 
our  perceptions  either  inhere  in  something  simple  and 
individual,  or  did  the  mind  perceive  some  real  connex- 
ion among  them,  there  wou'd  be  no  difficulty  in  the 
case.  For  my  part,  I  must  plead  the  privilege  of  a 
sceptic,  and  confess,  that  this  difficulty  is  too  hard  for 
my  understanding.  I  pretend  not,  however,  to  pro- 
nounce it  absolutely  insuperable.  Others,  perhaps,  or 
myself,  upon  more  mature  reflexions,  may  discover 
some  hypothesis,  that  will  reconcile  those  contradic- 
tions. 


INDEX 


Abstraction,    164. 

Abstract    sciences,    167,    173. 

Academic  philosophy,  41   et  seq. 

Accuracy,    6. 

Addison,    3. 

Alchemy,   136. 

Alexander,  87. 

Alexander,  the  false  prophet,   126. 

Algebra,  187. 

Ambiguous  expressions,   83. 

Analogy,    reasoning  by,    109. 

Animals,  reason  of,   109  et  seq. 

Annihilation,   22, 

A  priori,  25,  26,  34,   44. 

Aqua  regia,   228. 

Arguments,  demonstrative,  57; 
probable,  57;  mutual  destruc- 
tion of,    121. 

Arithmetic,    187. 

Aristotle,    3,    86. 

Association  of  ideas,  21  et  seq., 
SI    et   seq.,    255. 

Assurance,    degrees    of,    115. 

Astronomy,    175. 

Atheists,    159. 

Athens,    139,    141. 

Aurelius,   Marcus,    126. 

Bacon,    136. 

Bayle,    164. 

Bede,    132. 

Belief,   47  et  seq.,    50   et   seq.,   60, 

112,    196. 
Berkeley,    164. 
Bible,   137. 

Billiard-ball,  2y,  48,  64,  72,  78,  81. 
Bodies,    operation    of,    j6,    84    et 

seq.,    95. 
Body,    existence   of,    232   et  seq. 

Caesar,    174. 
Cartesians,   207   et  seq. 


Cartesian   doubt,    159. 
Catastrophes,   135. 

Cato,    119. 

Causation,  jy  et  seq.,  185  et  seq., 
257. 

Cause  and  effect,  22  et  seq.,  42  et 
seq,.  84  et  seq.,  143  et  seq., 
169,    198,    et   seq.,    255. 

Causes,  ultimate,  29  et  seq.;  simi- 
lar, 35  et  seq.;  final,  56;  prob- 
ability of,  58;  invisible,  71;  oc- 
casional,   y2;    definition,    219. 

Chance,   57  et  seq.,   99,   221. 

Chemistry,    175. 

Child,  burnt,   38. 

Christian    religion,    114,    137,    138. 

Chronology,    175. 

Cicero,  3,  53,   124. 

Clarke,    76,    199. 

Climates,   59. 

Color-sensation,    i8.- 

Conduct,  human,  determinism  and 
liberty   in,   85   et  seq. 

Conjecture,    154. 

Conjunction,  72  et  seq.,  76  et  seq., 
85,  169;  customary,  47,  50;  con- 
stant, 96,  231. 

Connexion,  25  et  seq.,  32,  36,  51 
et  seq.,  72  et  seq.;  necessary, 
61  et  seq.,  64,  76  et  seq.,  99. 
196,   202   et  seq. 

Constraint,     100. 

Contiguity,  22  et  seq.,  53  et  seq., 
192,   et   seq. 

Continued  existence  of  objects, 
2^2  et  seq. 

Contrariety,    22,    185. 

Contrast,    22. 

Copies  of  impressions,  ideas,  16 
et  seq.,  63  et  seq.,  80,  189,  208, 
211,    222,    227. 


INDEX 


26s 


Creator,  responsibility  of,   104. 
Criticism,    175. 
Cudworth,    76. 
Curtius,  Quintus,  87. 
Custom,  43  et  seq.,   55,    112. 
Customary,  connexion,   80  et  seq.; 
transition,    79   et   seq.,    95. 

Definitions,   exact,   82. 

Deity,    207    et    seq. 

Demetrius,    129. 

Demonstration,    proper   objects   of, 

^73- 
Demonstrative,       arguments,       57; 

reasoning,    34. 
Demosthenes,    124. 
Descartes,    76,    158. 
Design,    151, 
Determination    of    the    mind,    203, 

213  et  seq. 
Determinism,    83    et    seq. 
Distance,    235. 
Distinctness,    231    et    seq.,    260    et 

seq. 
Divine    existence,     argument     for, 

143- 
Divinity,    175. 
Divisibility,   infinite,   166. 
Doubt,  Cartesian,    159. 
Dreams,  1 62. 

I>ye,  57. 

Effect.     See   Cause. 

Elizabeth,    Queen,    135. 

Eloquence,    124. 

End,  common,  252. 

Endeavour,   69. 

Energy,  63,  80;  of  causes,  205 
See  Force. 

Epicurus,  139  et  seq.,  141  et  seq., 
IS5,    170- 

Ethics,    148   et   seq. 

Euclid,  23,  62. 

Evidence,  24;  natural,  93  et  seq.; 
for  the  truth  of  Christian  re- 
ligion, 114;  contrariety  of,  118; 
of  sense,  160  et  seq.;  objections 
to  moral,    168  et  seq. 

Evil,    105    et   seq. 

Existence,  idea  of,  229  et  seq.; 
continued,     of    objects,     2^2    et 


seq.;  distinct,  of  objects,  233  et 
seq. 

Experience,  26  et  seq.,  134,  162, 
174;  foundation  of  conclusions 
from,  31  et  seq.;  reasonings 
from,  35,  41;  inferences  from, 
44;  the  foundation  of  evidence, 
115  et  seq.,   186  et  seq.,  201. 

Experiments,    116,    235. 

Extension,   idea  of,    164. 

External  objects,  belief  of,  161  et 
seq. 

Extraordinary,   the,    118   et   seq. 

Fact,   matters  of,   23   et  seq. 

Faith,   137,   138. 

Fiction,    48. 

Final   causes,    56. 

Force,    63,    80,    204    et    seq.,    sop 

et   seq.,    231. 
Free  will,  83   et  seq. 
Future  state,   139  et  seq. 

Gabriel,    174. 

General    ideas,    164,    168,    209. 
Geography,    175;    mental,    10. 
Geometry,    29,    61,    168,    187. 
God,    73,    74,    104,    107,    136,    153, 

156,    163. 
Gods,   the,    144  et   seq. 
Gravity,    59. 

Habit,   43   et   seq. 

Harmony,    pre-established,    55. 

Heredotus,    132. 

Hippocrates,  86. 

History,    93,    175. 

Hobbes,    1 98. 

Human   body,    90. 

Human    nature,    science    of,    i    et 

seq.;    principles    and    operations 

of,  85  et  seq. 
Human  mind,   254. 
Hypothesis,   149. 

Ideas,  origin  of,  14  et  seq.;  asso- 
ciation of,  21  et  seq.;  relations 
of,  2$  et  seq.;  complex,  63; 
copies  of  our  impressions,  63  et 
seq.,  80,  189,  208,  211,  222,  227, 
general,   164,    168. 


266 


INDEX 


Identity,   185,   190. 
Identity,   personal,   245   et  seq. 
Identity,  of  objects,  250  et  seq. 
Images,    sensible,    52. 
Imagination,    47    et   seq.,    49,    172, 

234   et   seq. 
Impostures,  126. 
Impressions,    15    et   seq.;    original, 

63;   of  power,  213. 
Indeterminism,    83    et    seq. 
Indian   prince,    119. 
Infinite    divisibility,    166. 
Innate,    19;    ideas,    208. 
Instincts,    113. 
Invisible  causes,   71. 

Jansenist  miracles,   131. 
Jesuits,    131. 
Jupiter^.    145,    146. 
Justice,    distributive,    149. 

La   Bruyere,    3. 

Liberty,  83  et  seq.;  defined,  99. 

Limbs,   use  of  our,    56. 

Livy,    128,    136. 

Locke,  4,  20,  57,  65,  76,  200,  204. 

Lucian,  126,  139,  140. 

Lucretius,    132. 

Magic,    136. 

Mahomet,     128. 

Malebranche,    3,    76,   205. 

Mankind,  the  same  in  all  times 
and   places,    86    et   seq. 

Mariana,    132. 

Marvellous,  the,  118  et  seq.;  pro- 
pensity to  the,    124  et  seq. 

Mathematics,  23,   30,  61,    174,   187. 

Matters    of   fact,    23    et   seq.,    176. 

Medicine,   90. 

Mental,  geography,  10;  research, 
II. 

Metaphysics,    5  et  seq.,   62,    176. 

Mind,  command  of,  over  the  body, 
70. 

Miracles,  114  et  seq.;  defined, 
121;  reasons  for  discrediting, 
122    et    seq. 

Mode,  227  et  seq. 

Moral  evidence,  93  et  seq.;  objec- 
tions to,    168  et  seq. 


Morality,  doctrines  of  necessity 
and  of  liberty  consistent  with, 
100. 

Moral,  philosophy,  i  et  seq.;  rea- 
soning, 34,   175. 

Morals,    93,    175. 

Motion,   27. 

Motives  and  voluntary  actions, 
conjunction  between,   85   et  seq. 

Muscovy,    119. 

Myself.     See  Self. 

Natural  evidence,   93  et  seq. 

Natural  philosophy,    175. 

Nature,   course  of,    150;  violatio/is 

of  the  course  of,    134. 
Necessary  connexion,  64,    196,  2^2 

et  seq. 
Necessity,    83    et   seq.,    98   et   sec^  ; 

as     an     inference,     85;     defintil, 

100,    197    et    seq.,    216;    in    H.q 

mind,  214. 
Newton,  75. 
Number,    173,    176,    185   et  seq. 

Occasions,   72  et  seq. 
Objects,   sensible,    52,    232   et  seq  ; 
external,   242. 

Paphlagonia,    126. 
Paris,   Abbe,    131. 
Pentateuch,    137. 
Perceptions,    14. 
Pharsalia,  battle  of,    131. 
Philippi,  battle  of,    131. 
Philosophers,   fame  of,   3. 
Philosophy,  139  et  seq.;  nature  of, 

I    et   seq.;    natural,    175. 
Physic,    175. 
Plutarch,  128,  132. 
Points,    mathematical,    166. 
Politics,    93. 
Polybius,  86. 
Possibility,    149. 
Power,  63,  64,   68  et  seq.,  80,  204 

et  seq.;  impression  of,  213.     See 

Force. 
Pre-established  harmony,    55. 
Pre-ordination,    103. 
Priority,    193. 


INDEX 


267 


Probability,  57  et  seq.,  116  et  seq,, 
120,    134- 

Prodigies,  reasons  for  discredit- 
ing,   122  et  seq. 

Proofs,    57,    116   et   seq.,    120,    134. 

Propliecies,    138. 

Prophet,  Alexander  the  false,   126. 

Protagoras,   139. 

Providence,  a  particular,  139  et 
seq.;    divine,    148. 

Public    good,    questions   of,    142. 

Punishments,     loi. 

Purpose,    252, 

Pyrrhonism,    168,    170,    172. 

Qualities,    sensible,    65;    secondary 

and   primary,    164. 
Quantity,     173,     176;     science    of, 

168. 

Reason,  26  et  seq.;  of  animals, 
109  et  seq.;  attempt  to  destroy, 
165,   234  et  seq. 

Reasoning,  two  kinds  of,  34;  con- 
cerning matter  of  fact,  nature 
of,    31     et    seq.;    d    priori,    34; 

'  demonstrative,  34;  moral,  34, 
62,  175;  from  experience,  41; 
comparison,    190. 

Regular    succession,    56. 

Relations   of   ideas,    23    et   seq. 

Relations,   philosophical,    185,   219. 

Religion,    123,    127. 

Religious  doctrines  and  life,   155. 

Resemblance,  22  et  seq.;  51  et 
seq.,    185,    256. 

Retz,  Cardinal  de,   130. 

Rewards,    loi. 

Roman  Catholic  religion,  52. 

Roman   emperors,    140. 

Saragossa,  miracle  of,   130. 
Sceptical    philosophy,    41    et    seq., 

158  et  seq.,  244. 
Scepticism,     mitigated,     171;     with 

regard  to  senses,  232  et  seq. 
Science,  proper  subjects  of,  173. 
Sciences,   abstract,    167,    173. 
Self,  idea  of,  245  et  seq.,  260  et 

seq. 


Senses,  32;  evidence  of,  160  et 
seq.;  perceptions  of  the,  162  et 
seq. 

Sensible,  images,  52;  objects,  52; 
qualities,    65. 

Serapis,    129. 

Shaftsbury,    Lord,    349. 

Similar,  causes,  35  et  seq.;  effects, 
35  et  seq.;  instances,  81;  ob- 
jects,   61,    79. 

Simplicity   of   mind,    247. 

Socrates,   139. 

Soul,   249. 

Soul  with  body,  union  of,  66  et 
seq. 

Space,   ideas   of,    165   et  seq. 

Stoics,   40,    105,    170. 

Substance,    227,    249,    260. 

Succession,  regular,   56. 

Suetonius,    129. 

Sumatra,    119. 

Supreme    Being,    208. 

Surprise,    123    et   seq. 

Tacitus,   86,    128. 

Terms,    meaning    of,    82. 

Testimony,  human,  116  et  seq.; 
circumstances  requisite  to  give 
full   assurance   to,    122. 

Theology,    175. 

Thoughts,    IS    et   seq. 

Tillotson,  Dr.,   114. 

Time,  ideas  of,  165  et  seq.;  re- 
lations  of,    185. 

Transition  of  the  mind,  220. 

Truth,   criteria   of,    160. 

Ultimate  causes,  29  et  seq. 
Uniformity  in  nature,   84  et  seq., 
87  et  seq. 

Velleity,    98. 

Vespasian,    128. 

Vis  inertiae,   75. 

Volition,  66  et  seq.,  83  et  seq. 

Will,    66  et  seq.,   83   et   seq. 
Witnesses,    118. 
Wonder,    123   et  seq. 

Zeuxis,    144. 


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